B   3   135 


LIBRARY 

OF  Tin- 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Deceived 
^Accessions  No. 


JAN  1895 

CA/5S 


' 


A  MINGLED  YARN 


SKETCHES    ON   VARIOUS    SUBJECTS 


BY 

HENRY  EDWARDS 

COMEDIAN 


The  web  of  our  life  is  of  a  mingled  yarn,  good  and  ill  together." 

.     ALL  's  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


•UKIVBRSITT 


NEW    YORK 

G.   P.    PUTNAM'S   SONS 

27   &   29   WEST   23D   STREET 
I883 


COPYRIGHT    BY 

HENRY  EDWARDS 

1883 


Press  of 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 
New    York 


DEDICATION. 


TO   THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE 

BOHEMIAN   CLUB   OF   SAN   FRANCISCO, 

TO  WHOSE  WARM-HEARTED   FELLOWSHIP  AND  UNSTINTED  KINDNESS 
I   AM   INDEBTED   FOR   MUCH   OF  THE   HAPPINESS   OF  MY   LIFE, 
AND  WHOSE  INFLUENCE  IS  APPARENT  UPON   ALL  THAT 
THIS   VOLUME  CONTAINS,  I   DEDICATE   ITS  PAGES 
WITH    GRATEFUL    MEMORIES,    AND    FEEL 
INGS    OF    AFFECTIONATE    REGARD. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


I  DESIRE  to  disarm  all  hostile  criticism  upon  the 
contents  of  this  book,  by  stating  that  it  is  solely  in 
obedience  to  the  wishes  of  friends  that  these  simple 
sketches  have  been  collected  and  placed  before  the 
public  eye.  No  one  knows  better  than  I  do  their 
numerous  blemishes,  but  I  prefer  to  present  them 
as  they  are,  rather  than  to  attempt  their  elabora 
tion,  conscious  at  least  of  the  fact  that  their  publi 
cation,  if  it  do  little  good,  can  on  the  other  hand  be 
productive  of  no  harm  to  any  but  the  author. 


HY.  EDWARDS. 


WALLACK'S  THEATRE, 
NEW  YORK,  Dec.,  1882. 


0* 

UNIVERSITY 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 

THREE    WEEKS    IN    MAZATLAN                ....  I 

IRON,    AND    ITS    RELATION    TO    CIVILIZATION                  .                 .  65 

BUBBLES  FROM  BOHEMIA 

SHAKESPEARE                    ......  89 

EDWIN    ADAMS                  ....  IO6 

JAMES    HAMILTON      (FUNERAL  ADDRESS)  .  .  .112 

JOSEPH    MAGUIRE                 "                      "                   .  „£ 

MID-SUMMER     "HIGH    JINKS "                 .                .  I2i 

11  TRIFLES  LIGHT  AS  AIR  " 

TWO    BALLOON    VOYAGES           ...  131 

THE    CHURCH    AND    THE   STAGE            ....  139 

AGASSIZ  T/fo 

•                •                «                                 .  140 

MAJOR    HARRY    LARKYNS      (FUNERAL  ADDRESS)           .                .  151 
WILLIAM    BARRY                                   •«                    «« 


THB        $3 

UFIVBB.SIT7 


THREE  WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN. 


ON  the  27th  of  December,  1874,  accompanied  by 
my  wife,  I  took  passage  in  the  steamship  "  Mon 
tana,"  bound  for  Panama,  and  after  rather  a  boister 
ous  passage  of  four  days,  during  which  time  we 
experienced  as  much  misery  as  is  usually  accorded 
to  sea-going  people  about  the  Californian  coast,  we 
ran  into  the  harbor  of  San  Diego,  the  future  rival 
of  San  Francisco,  as  its  inhabitants  are  pleased  to 
call  it ;  a  rising  town,  doubtless,  but  destined  to  re 
main  for  many  years  in  its  rising  condition,  before 
it  can  in  any  way  compete  with  the  mistress  of  the 
Golden  Gate.  The  San  Diegans  point  with  pride 
to  their  safe  and  beautiful  harbor,  but  they  forget 
to  mention  that  that  harbor  is  always  destitute  of 
ships,  one  small  coaling  barque  belonging  to  the 
P.  S.  N.  Co.,  being  the  only  vessel  in  sight  upon 
our  first  visit,  and  on  our  return,  even  this  .one 
was  absent,  and  the  stars  and  stripes  which  floated 
from  the  custom-house,  met  no  answering  signal 
from  the  waters  of  the  bay.  The  hopes  of  this  place 
are  at  present  wholly  in  the  future,  and  they  seem 
to  depend  upon  the  Great  Southern  Railway  across 
the  continent,  of  which  it  will  be  the  western 


2  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

terminus,  and  the  completion  of  which  must  cer 
tainly  one  day  make  San  Diego  a  place  of  consider 
able  importance.  Steaming  down  the  bay,  and 
past  the  substantial  light-house  erected  on  Point 
Loma,  we  looked  our  last  for  a  time  upon  green 
grass  and  fertile  fields,  and  for  three  days  coasted 
along  the  rough,  rocky,  and  forbidding  shores  of 
the  Californian  Peninsula,  passing  almost  within 
sight  of  the  reef  on  which  the  ill-fated  "  Sacra 
mento  "  had  so  recently  met  her  unfortunate  dis 
aster;  and  crossing  the  entrance  to  Magdalena  Bay, 
the  site  of  Drake  de  Kay's  late  colonization  venture, 
which  settlement  is  now  given  over  entirely  to  a 
number  of  Ecuadorians,  engaged  in  gathering  or- 
chilla,  we  rounded  the  curiously  perforated  rocks  off 
Cape  St.  Lucas  and  came  to  anchor  there  on  the 
eighth  morning  after  our  departure  from  San  Fran 
cisco.  To  all  who  have  travelled  to  California  by 
the  way  of  the  Isthmus,  this  halting-place  is  famil 
iar,  and  needs  no  remark  here  accept  a  passing 
notice  of  the  recent  death  of  the  founder  of  the 
settlement,  Capt.  Richie  ("  old  Tom  Richie,"  as  he 
was  familiarly  called),  which  took  place  about  three 
months  before  our  arrival,  and  which,  to  those  coast 
ing  vessels  accustomed  to  make  the  Cape  a  place  of 
call,  could  be  regarded  as  no  other  than  a  national 
calamity.  Richie  was  certainly  a  singular  and  un 
common  man,  full  of  the  adventurous  spirit  which 
distinguished  the  early  pioneers  of  this  coast,  owning 
a  great  and  generous  heart,  which  was  always  ready 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  3 

to  give  of  his  abundance  to  those  who  needed  it, 
and  possessed  of  that  peculiar  faculty  of  mind  which 
sees  justice  from  an  abstract  point  of  view,  and 
which  does  right  from  a  consciousness  of  internal 
principle,  rather  than  from  the  dictates  of  conven 
tionality  or  the  urgings  of  society's  laws.  When  a 
lad  of  only  seventeen  years  of  age,  he  ran  away 
from  an  English  whaling  ship,  fixed  on  Cape  St. 
Lucas  as  his  home,  lived  there  for  upward  of  fifty 
years,  married  two  Mexican  wives  (some  people  say 
seven),  reared  a  large  family  of  children,  and,  for  the 
latter  years  of  his  life,  was  looked  upon  as  an  abso 
lute  king  in  his  district — his  word  upon  all  matters 
in  dispute  being  regarded  as  law,  the  opposing 
parties  in  his  court  being  always  satisfied  with  his 
verdict,  and  never  appealing  to  a  higher  one  for  a 
new  trial,  as  is  too  often  the  case  in  more  advanced 
and  polished  communities.  He  seldom  left  his 
home,  except  now  and  then  for  a  journey  up  the 
gulf  as  far  as  Lm  Paz  or  Loretto,  and  on  one  occa 
sion  to  San  Francisco,  the  noise  and  bustle  of  which 
city  proved  too  much  for  the  old  recluse,  and  he  was 
glad  once  more  to  seek  the  seclusion  of  his  peaceful 
home.  Every  sailor  has  a  kind  word  for  "  old  Tom 
Richie,"  and  the  tone  of  respectful  sorrow  which  now 
accompanies  the  utterance  of  his  name,  is  a  sure 
indication  that  upon  that  barren  spot  at  Cape  St. 
Lucas,  a  kindly  heart  and  active  brain  have  found 
their  last  resting-place  ;  and  that  from  above  his 
tomb  in  the  place  he  loved  so  well,  will  spring  up  in 


4  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

many  a  heart,  gentle  but  abiding  memories  of  the 
past,  and  grateful  recollections  of  an  old  friend,  long 
regarded,  but  now  passed  from  earth  away. 

Leaving  Cape  St.  Lucas,  we  steamed  up  the  gulf 
until  abreast  of  San  Jose",  a  small  settlement  in  a 
valley  of  plenty  surrounded  by  desolation,  hearing 
much  of  the  pearl  fisheries  of  La  Paz  and  the 
oranges  of  Loretto  (both  which  quaint  cities  lay  to 
the  north  of  us,  but  which,  alas !  were  destined  to  be 
unseen  by  our  eyes),  and  then  headed  our  course 
straight  across  the  gulf  to  Mazatlan.  The  pearl 
fishery  at  La  Paz  is  a  very  productive  source  of 
wealth,  last  year  alone  yielding,  as  I  am  told,  up 
ward  of  $130,000  worth  of  pearls,  some  of  which 
were  of  extreme  beauty  and  quaintness  of  shape,  one 
specimen  obtained  within  the  previous  two  months 
having  been  sold  in  Mazatlan  for  the  large  sum  of 
$5,000.  The  diving  is  carried  on  wholly  by  Mexi 
cans,  who  are  adroit  fishermen,  and  appear  to  relish 
their  somewhat  dangerous  life.  The  shells  from 
which  the  pearls  are  obtained  are  found  in  water 
from  three  to  four  fathoms  deep,  and  it  is  somewhat 
singular  that  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  gulf  no 
specimens  of  the  pearl  oyster  have  yet  been  dis 
covered,  the  fishery  being  confined  solely  to  the 
waters  near  La  Paz.  The  pearls  are  said  to  be  all 
profit  to  the  company  who  are  engaged  in  the 
speculation,  as  the  shells  themselves,  which  are  ex 
ported  to  Europe  (where  they  are  largely  employed 
for  inlaying  and  lacquer  work),  pay  the  total  ex- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  5 

penses  of  the  labor  employed.  The  town  of  Lo- 
retto,  to  which  I  alluded,  is  highly  celebrated  for  the 
quality  of  its  oranges,  many  of  which  find  their  way 
across  the  gulf  to  Guaymas  and  Mazatlan,  where  they 
command  far  higher  prices  than  the  fruit  grown  in 
those  places.  Gradually  losing  sight  of  the  land, 
the  good  ship  "  Montana,"  pitching  and  rolling  at  a 
fearful  rate  under  the  influence  of  a  strong  nor'- 
wester,  made  rapid  progress  across  the  Californian 
Gulf,  and  in  twenty-two  hours  after  leaving  Cape 
St.  Lucas  the  booming  of  our  gun  awoke  the  echoes 
among  the  hills  and  valleys  which  surround  the 
most  important  Pacific  seaport  of  the  Mexican  Re 
public,  and  as  we  drop  our  anchor  between  the 
rocky  islands  of  Gervo  and  El  Christon  Grande, 
our  journey's  end  is  reached,  and  we  are  safely  at 
rest  upon  the  bright  blue  sea  which  washes  the 
walls  of  the  strange  city  of  Mazatlan. 

It  was  a  picture  full  of  that  strange  and  dreamy 
beauty  found  only  in  tropical  climes,  which  gives  to 
the  spirit  a  sense  of  almost  oppressive  sadness ; 
filling  the  heart  with  stifled  longings  for  a  better 
understanding  of  its  untold  loveliness,  and  suggest 
ing  to  the  soul  a  vision  of  that  brighter  and  better 
land  "  beyond  the  skies,"  which  is  the  sustaining 
hope  of  our  earthly  pilgrimage.  Groups  of  low,  flat- 
roofed  houses,  curiously  painted  in  white,  blue,  pink, 
and  yellow,  surmounted  by  the  giant  stems  of 
cocoa-nut  trees  waving  their  finely  cut  branches  in 
the  gentle  breeze,  and  lighted  up  in  front  by  the  rich 


O  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

transparency  of  the  tropic  sea,  formed  the  fore 
ground  of  the  picture  ;  while  beyond  it  stretched  a 
series  of  broken  hills,  crowned  to  their  very  tops  with 
dense  and  curious  vegetation — a  purple  haze  en 
shrouding  their  summits,  and  blending  them  into  the 
obscurity  of  the  distance.  Through  rifts  in  the  mist 
which  overhung  the  landscape  like  a  veil,  could  be  dis 
cerned  the  rocky  forests  crowning  range  after  range 
of  the  great  mountain  chain  which  forms  the  back 
bone  of  America,  and  which  reaches  its  grandest 
forms  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  of  the  North  and  the 
Andes  of  the  Southern  Continent.  Strange-looking 
trees  of  giant  cactus  covered  the  precipitous  sides 
of  the  island  and  rocky  points  more  immediately 
surrounding  us,  while  flights  of  turkey-buzzards 
hovering  like  restless  ghosts  of  the  departed  over 
the  land,  and  groups  of  grand  gray  pelicans  and 
graceful  white  cranes  about  the  water,  lent  a  living 
interest  to  the  scene.  Around  and  above  all  was 
shed  the  golden  glory  of  a  tropical  sunrise,  the 
most  delicate  purple  tints  shading  off  into  richest 
crimson,  and  encircled  by  a  greenish  tinge  of  almost 
ethereal  brightness,  the  slanting  beams  of  the  ap 
proaching  luminary  striking  upon  the  dull  green 
foliage,  and  illuminating  it  with  transcendent  splen 
dor. 

The  city  itself  is  built  upon  an  isthmus,  which  at 
its  narrowest  point  is  not  more  than  two  hundred 
yards  in  width,  the  old  town  occupying  the  northern, 
and  the  new  town  (or  that  chiefly  inhabited  by  the 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZA  TLAN.  7 

better  class  of  residents)  the  southern  portion. 
Southward,  the  peninsula  rises  into  a  high,  rocky 
hill,  on  which  are  the  remains  of  a  once  powerful 
fortress,  which  from  its  position  offers  a  most  im 
portant  point  of  defence,  but  which,  with  that  care 
lessness  peculiar  to  the  Mexican  race,  has  been 
suffered  slowly  to  crumble  into  decay.  On  the  top 
of  this  eminence  is  the  flag-staff  station,  and  beyond 
it,  still  farther  to  the  south,  rises  the  rocky  moun 
tainous  island  called  El  Christen  Grande,  the  high 
est  peak  of  which  I  had  subsequently  the  pleasure 
of  ascending,  and  from  which  a  grand  and  com 
manding  view  of  the  surrounding  country  is  to  be 
obtained.  At  the  southwestern  extremity  of  El  Chris- 
ton  is  a  singular  cave,  the  walls  of  which  are  strongly 
impregnated  with  sulphur,  and  lead  off  into  passa 
ges  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain  as  yet  unknown 
and  unexplored.  The  peak  of  this  interesting  island 
seems  formed  by  nature  'for  a  light-house  station, 
and  in  the  hands  of  any  other  people  would  cer 
tainly  have  been  put  to  such  a  use,  but  it  is  a  singu 
lar  fact,  and  it  may  be  here  noted  as  one  of  great 
significance,  and  remarkably  illustrative  of  the  Mexi 
can  nation,  that  while  they  have  during  the  past  ten 
years  collected  upwards  of  two  millions  of  dollars 
from  various  nationalities  for  light-house  dues,  and 
almost  as  much  more  for  pilotage,  there  is  not  a 
single  light-house  on  the  whole  Mexican  coast,  while 
the  duties  of  a  Mexican  pilot  appear  to  consist  in 
going  out  in  his  boat  to  within  three  or  four  hundred 


8  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

yards  of  any  vessel  requiring  his  assistance,  waving 
a  white  flag,  and  then  quickly  turning  round  and 
pulling  back  to  the  shore. 

Having  bargained  with  some  good-looking  boat 
men  to  take  us  from  our  anchorage  to  the  shore,  a 
distance  of  about  two  miles,  for  the  sum  of  two  dol 
lars,  we  effected  our  landing  upon  a  very  dilapidated 
wharf,  and  proceeded  to  the  custom-house  for  the 
purpose  of  having  our  baggage  inspected,  but  not 
having  the  appearance  of  dangerous  or  suspicious 
people,  we  were  allowed  to  pass  with  very  little 
trouble,  and  at  once  looked  about  for  some  dray  or 
express  wagon  to  convey  our  boxes  to  the  hotel  at 
which  we  were  to  take  up  our  residence.  But  vehi 
cles  of  any  sort  there  were  none  ;  and  I  looked  on 
with  some  interest,  and  not  a  little  uneasiness,  at 
seeing  our  various  packages  shouldered  by  a  whole 
army  of  cargadores,  one  of  whom  lifted  a  heavy 
leather  trunk,  weighing  not  less  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  as  easily  as  he  would  a  packet  of 
tea,  and  marched  off,  leading  the  way,  apparently 
not  in  the  least  oppressed  by  his  burden.  These 
cargadores  are  among  the  institutions  of  the  place, 
and  the  loads  they  carry  would  appear  almost  be 
yond  possibility.  I  subsequently  saw  a  man  carry 
ing  seven  boxes  of  claret  from  a  lighter  up  to  the 
custom-house,  a  distance  of  over  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards,  and  upon  another  occasion  met  one  of 
them  with  a  piano  on  his  shoulders ;  but  I  had  be 
come  so  accustomed  to  them  by  that  time,  that  I 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  9 

was  by  no   means  astonished   at  this  feat.     These 
wonderful  burdens  are   supported   on  a  pad  which* 
rests  on  the  shoulders,  the  strap  of  which  is  passed 
round  the  forehead,  which  is  thus  made  to  bear  part 
of  the  strain. 

Some  short  time  ago  an  attempt  was  made  by  an 
enterprising  American  to  introduce  express  wagons 
and  drays  into  Mazatlan,  but  their  use  was  forbidden 
by  the  local  government,  on  the  plea  that  it  would 
ruin  the  business  of  the  cargadores  ;  and  so  our  specu 
lative  friend  had  to  reship  his  vehicles  to  New 
York,  lamenting  the  want  of  the  progressive  spirit, 
which  is  so  eminently  characteristic  of  the  Mexican 
people.  The  only  carts  now  employed  are  rude, 
heavy,  lumbering  contrivances,  each  drawn  by  a  single 
mule  or  donkey,  poor,  patient,  enduring  creatures, 
without  whom  the  Mexican  could  not  exist,  and 
who  have  certainly  solved  the  problem  of  how  to  do 
the  largest  amount  of  work  on  the  smallest  amount 
of  food.  Over  rough  roads,  almost  untenable  by 
the  foot  of  man,  these  powerful  and  intelligent 
beasts  carry  their  heavy  burdens,  plodding  carefully 
and  always  safely,  over  the  most  dangerous  places, 
rewarded  only  by  the  croppings  of  the  roadside,  or 
occasionally  by  a  handful  of  dried  corn-stalks  at  the 
end  of  the  day's  journey.  Yet  I  would  not  have  it 
understood  that  the  Mexican  is  cruel  to  his  beast ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  drives  him  by  words  rather  than 
by  the  whip,  and  a  good  understanding  always 
seems  to  exist  between  the  animal  and  his  master. 


10  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

I  one  day  witnessed  an  incident  illustrative  of  this 
'fact.  A  little  mule  drawing  a  big  cart  laden  with 
cases  of  wine,  in  turning  the  corner  of  a  street,  had 
come  into  too  close  quarters  with  a  post  placed 
there  to  protect  the  sidewalk,  and  had  brought  the 
vehicle  to  a  sudden  stand.  The  driver,  instead  of 
lashing  the  animal  and  cursing  him,  as  is  too  often 
the  case  among  other  people,  in  the  most  uncon 
cerned  manner  took  out  a  cigarette,  lighted  it,  leaned 
against  the  nearest  door-post  and  began  to  smoke, 
in  the  intervals  of  the  puffs,  chaffing  his  donkey, 
and  laughing  good-humoredly  at  his  attempts  to  free 
himself  from  his  position.  I  should  translate  what 
he  said  as  something  like:  "  You  are  a  pretty  fellow 
— a  nice  mess  you  are  in — don't  ask  me  to  help  you 
—get  out  of  it  as  you  best  can,  I  'm  in  no  hurry," 
etc.,  etc. — laughing  all  the  time  as  the  donkey  pulled 
and  pulled  almost  enough  to  break  the  post  down. 
The  poor  little  animal  seemed  to  understand  all 
that  was  said  to  him,  and  cocked  his  ears  with  a  most 
knowing  expression,  then  in  a  moment  lowering  them 
suddenly  he  seemed  to  comprehend  the  difficulty, 
and  forcing  his  cart  backward,  he  gave  a  sudden 
turn,  and  feeling  himself  free  of  the  post,  marched 
triumphantly  on  with  his  load,  his  master  slowly 
following,  lighting  another  cigarette,  and  applauding 
the  performance.  I  applauded  too,  and  walking 
over  to  the  driver,  extended  my  hand  to  him,  say 
ing:  "  Bravo,  old  fellow,  that  's  better  than  beating 
him."  I  forgot,  however,  that  he  did  not  under- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  II 

stand  English,  so  I  tried  Spanish ;  however,  he  un 
derstood  this  still  less,  and  I  concluded  to  try  no 
more,  so  he  offered  me  a  cigarette,  gave  the  usual 
salute  of  "  Adios,  seftor,"  and  went  lazily  and  mer 
rily  up  the  street  after  his  brave  little  mule. 

The  carts  of  which  I  have  spoken  have  very  high 
wheels  and  short  shafts,  and  the  animals  drawing 
them  all  wear  a  saddle  fastened  to  the  shaft,  in  the 
rudest  manner,  by  a  piece  of  cord,  while  the  head  of 
the  animal  is  perfectly  free  from  every  kind  of  trap 
pings,  no  bridle  or  traces  being  used.  The  driver 
walks  by  the  side  of  his  mule,  and  directs  his  course 
by  words,  very  rarely  using  his  whip,  and  then 
only  cracking  it  loudly,  with  a  great  show  of  tem 
per,  within  half  a  yard  of  the  animal's  ear.  It  is 
no  uncommon  sight  to  meet  a  number  of  these  ani 
mals  coming  into  town,  each  laden  with  a  pile  of 
corn-stalks,  all  cut  closely  off  at  the  roots,  and 
sometimes  as  much  as  fourteen  feet  in  height, 
packed  carefully  on  each  side  of  the  pack-saddle, 
and  tied  together  at  the  top,  thus  perfectly  envel 
oping  the  little  animals,  and  allowing  only  their  head 
and  ears  to  be  seen.  As  they  travel  along  laden  in 
this  way,  they  look,  when  viewed  from  behind,  like 
a  moving  army  of  gigantic  corn  sheaves,  and  pre 
sent  a  singular  and  somewhat  ludicrous  appearance. 
The  mules  and  donkeys  also  do  all  the  water-carry 
ing  for  the  city,  this  invaluable  element  being 
almost  invariably  obtained  from  the  numerous  fresh 
water  lagoons  on  the  outside  of  the  city,  and  conse- 


12  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

quently  not  being  over-excellent  in  quality.  A 
large  quantity  of  water  is  in  some  houses  gathered 
in  the  rainy  season  and  stored  in  reservoirs  for  the 
purpose,  but  the  bulk  of  the  population  have  to  de 
pend  for  their  supply  upon  the  water-carriers  and 
their  mules,  who  parade  the  streets  throughout  the 
•day.  Each  mule  carries  four  earthen  jars,  contain 
ing  about  three  gallons  each,  the  value  of  the  con 
tents  of  each  jar  being  about  equal  to  fifteen  cents. 
Much  of  this  water  is  strongly  impregnated  with 
decaying  vegetable  matter,  and  is  scarcely  fit  for 
use  without  being  filtered. 

The  hotel  in  which  we  took  up  our  quarters  was 
called  the  Hotel  Nacional,  and  was,  luckily  for  us, 
kept  by  a  person  who  understood  English,  and  who 
had  passed  some  time  in  San  Francisco.  It  was  a 
large  straggling  adobe  building,  with  about  twenty 
rooms,  built  in  the  form  of  a  square,  the  centre  of 
which  was  entirely  open,  and  planted  with  curious 
trees  and  shrubs.  Into  this  square  sometimes  came 
a  drove  of  mules  to  feed,  while  their  owners  did  the 
same  beneath  the  open  piazza,  surrounded  by  trellis- 
work,  which  formed  our  dining-room.  The  sleeping 
apartments  of  this  establishment  were  about  sixteen 
to  eighteen  feet  square  and  almost  as  many  feet 
high,  with  bricked  floors  and  whitewashed  walls,  in 
the  corners  of  which  huge  spiders  and  cockroaches 
made  their  homes  by  day,  .sallying  forth  at  night 
to  prey  upon  whatever  they  could  find.  The 
spiders,  however,  though  formidable-looking  ani- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  13 

mals,  are  quite  harmless,  and  the  cockroaches, 
though  perfectly  swarming  in  point  of  numbers,  are 
only  terrible  to  persons  possessing  weaker  nerves 
than  ourselves.  In  fact,  I  rather  liked  them,  as  1 
was  enabled  to  pursue  my  favorite  study  of  ento 
mology  without  its  usual  accompaniment  of  a  long 
walk,  and  I  am  happy  to  announce  that  I  discovered 
at  least  one  new  species  of  cockroach,  even  in  our 
sleeping  chamber.  It  was  to  this  room  that  we  re 
tired  to  rest  after  our  first  day's  long  and  fatiguing 
walk  about  the  city — rest,  did  I  say  ?  Ah !  how 
little  did  it  deserve  that  word  !  To  the  lover  of  a 
comfortable  bed,  in  which  the  soft  down  gently 
closes  round  him,  lulling  him  to  repose,  and  com 
pelling  him,  when  the  morning  breaks,  to  turn  again 
for  a 

"  Little  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber," 

I  would  say,  emphatically:  "  Go  not  to  Mazat- 
lan."  There  are  no  beds,  the  places  which  delude 
one  to  rest  being  simply  iron  cots,  on  which  is 
stretched  a  piece  of  canvas,  covered  by  a  single 
sheet.  This  is  what  one  lies  on.  Then  comes  an 
other  sheet,  and  a  sort  of  coverlid  more  like  an  old 
window-curtain  than  any  thing  else.  This  is  what 
lies  on  us,  and  this  is  all ;  no  mattress,  no  feathers, 
no  blanket,  no  any  thing  like  comfort ;  the  pillows 
as  round  and  hard  as  if  they  had  been  turned  out  of 
a  log  of  wood,  into  which  it  is  quite  impossible  for 
even  the  hardest  and  thickest  of  heads  to  make  the 


14  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

least  impression.  Then,  in  addition  to  this  solemn 
mockery  of  a  comfortable  bed — that  haven  of  rest 
which  every  tired  mortal  groans  for,  and  enjoys  so 
much — thousands  of  fleas  take  up  their  residence  in 
each  cot,  and  nip  and  bite  like  furies  the  whole  live 
long  night,  utterly  eluding  all  your  vigilance,  and 
laughing  to  scorn  your  attempts  to  catch  them. 
They  are  not,  as  in  civilized  countries,  good,  fat, 
healthy-looking  fleas,  such  as  take  hold  of  you  hon 
estly,  and  give  you  a  chance  to  catch  them  with  the 
assistance  of  a  moistened  ringer,  but  tiny,  vicious, 
active  little  fiends,  that  give  you  a  remarkably  sharp 
bite,  and  then  jump  off  to  attack  some  other  part  of 
your  body.  It  has  been  said  that  an  ordinary  flea 
will  leap  over  two  hundred  times  its  own  length.  I 
am  sure  these  proportions  must  be  much  increased 
in  the  case  of  the  fleas  of  Mazatlan,  as  they  are 
smaller  and  leap  farther  than  any  fleas  I  ever  saw. 
During  the  intervals  in  which  these  tormentors 
were  at  rest,  swarms  of  mosquitoes  varied  the 
amusement,  and  drew  our  attention  in  another  di 
rection.  These  mosquitoes  attack  without  the  slight 
est  noise,  settling  down  upon  the  face  as  lightly  as 
a  snow-flake,  when  bang  goes  their  sharp  proboscis 
deeply  into  your  flesh,  and  down  comes  your  hand 
with  a  terrible  whack,  only  to  miss  the  enemy  and 
make  you  think  that  for  the  future  you  would  pre 
fer  being  bitten.  Downright  fatigue  at  last,  how 
ever,  overcame  even  the  fleas  and  mosquitoes, 
and  we  slept,  only  to  awake  in  the  morning 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  15 

with  aching  limbs,  not  in  the  least  refreshed  by  our 
repose.  This  first  night  in  Mazatlan  was  by  no 
means  an  exceptional  one.  We  were  doomed  to  ex 
perience  many  such,  varied  occasionally  by  a  con 
tinual  crowing  of  cocks,  which  commenced  soon  after 
sunset  and  continued  until  long  after  sunrise. 
Sometimes  the  dogs  began  a  barking  chorus,  and 
kept  it  up  at  intervals  throughout  the  night,  and 
worse  than  all,  occasionally  a  man  with  a  hurdy- 
gurdy  would  be  hired  by  some  of  the  cargadores 
and  others  of  the  denizens  of  the  wharf  to  grind  out 
his  miserable  tunes  the  whole  night  through  for 
their  special  gratification  ;  and  sometimes  a  full 
band  would  come  to  serenade  some  fair  senorita 
on  her  festal  day,  and  rattle  away  till  the  dawn  of 
morning. 

On  these  occasions  it  is  usual  to  invite  the  musi 
cians  into  the  house,  and  keep  the  merrymaking 
there,  but  if  the  revellers  have  made  too  free  before 
their  approach,  as  is  often  the  case,  this  custom  is 
dispensed  with,  and,  in  revenge,  they  proceed  to 
greater  libations,  and  bang  and  toot  away  until  the 
blush  of  day  sends  them  to  their  homes.  These 
constant  interruptions,  added  to  the  hard  and  mis 
erable  beds,  render  Mazatlan  not  a  comfortable 
place  in  which  to  sleep,  and  justify  the  warning 
I  have  given  to  all  who  love  their  beds  to  stay 
away  from  that  city.  And  yet,  when  we  grumbled 
about  our  broken  rest,  we  were  always  coolly  told  : 
"  Oh,  you  will  get  used  to  it ;  we  all  sleep  like  that 


1 6  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

in  Mazatlan  ;  it  is  too  hot  to  sleep  on  beds  or  mat 
tresses,  and,  as  to  the  fleas,  they  are  no  worse  than 
in  other  hot  countries  ;  they  are  always  most 
troublesome  to  new-comers,"  and  other  such  consola 
tion  as  this.  Now,  as  to  the  heat,  we  never  felt  it 
during  the  warmest  day  as  uncomfortably  hot,  and 
at  night  could  always  have  borne  a  pair  of  blankets. 
The  thermometer  stands,  with  little  variation,  in  the 
winter  season  at  about  75°,  but  in  the  rainy  season, 
which  sets  in  about  the  end  of  April  and  continues 
until  October,  it  ranges  from  110°  to  125°  in  the 
shade. 

During  the  winter  months  I  can  imagine  no  cli 
mate  more  beautiful  and  health-giving  than  that  of 
Mazatlan.  Balmy,  clear,  and  fresh  as  the  air  always 
is,  it  is  sometimes  rendered  even  more  agreeable  by 
a  gentle  breeze  from  the  sea,  and,  as  the  city  is  sur 
rounded  on  three  sides  by  the  ocean,  it  matters  not 
from  which  quarter  the  wind  may  blow,  as  a  pure 
and  fresh  air  is  sure  to  find  its  way  to  all  quarters. 
There  are  no  violent  winds,  no  fogs,  no  dust,  and  it 
is  surely  not  Utopian  to  look  forward  to  a  not  dis 
tant  day  when  this  place  may  become  a  sanitarium 
for  the  enfeebled  and  worn  constitutions  of  our  more 
northern  clime,  to  which  those  broken  down  by 
over-work  may  retire  for  rest  and  change,  and  for  a 
time  imitate  the  dwellers  in  that  genial  climate  in 
the  pure  enjoyment  of  their  "  dolce  far  niente" 

The  streets  of  Mazatlan  are  crooked,  narrow,  and 
badly  paved,  but  they,  as  well  as  the  houses,  both 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  I/ 

inside  and  outside,  are  kept  scrupulously  clean.  A 
city  ordinance  obliges  every  householder  once  a 
year  to  paint,  whitewash,  or  otherwise  clean  and 
adorn  the  outside  of  his  house,  and  as  this  is  usually 
done  at  the  conclusion  of  the  rainy  season,  we  had 
the  advantage  of  seeing  the  city  in  its  new  dress, 
the  process  of  decoration  having  recently  been  com 
pleted.  It  is  also  compulsory  upon  every  house 
holder  to  keep  the  sidewalk  and  half  the  street  op 
posite  to  his  house  perfectly  and  cleanly  swept  every 
morning,  the  carts  for  carrying  away  the  dust  and 
refuse  calling  each  day  for  its  removal.  It  is  for 
bidden  to  throw  dirty  water  about  the  streets  under 
a  penalty  of  five  dollars;  these  enactments  being  in 
the  chief  streets  of  the  city  rigidly  enforced,  but  in 
the  suburbs,  where  sanitary  regulations  are  not  car 
ried  into  effect,  dirt  accumulates  in  large  quantities, 
and  in  some  cases  poisons  the  air  to  a  considerable 
distance.  The  turkey-buzzards,  so  appreciated  as 
scavengers  in  all  tropical  countries,  here  also  per 
form  their  valuable  offices,  and  being  protected  by 
the  Government  (their  destruction  being  forbidden 
under  a  very  heavy  fine),  they  exist  in  enormous 
numbers,  their  gaunt  and  gloomy-looking  forms,  sad 
and  melancholy  as  Poe's  raven,  being  met  with 
upon  every  side,  both  in  the  city  and  in  its  immedi 
ate  neighborhood. 

The  houses  are  nearly  all  built  after  the  same 
model,  very  few  having  more  than  the  ground-floor, 
except  in  two  of  the  principal  streets  and  the  plaza, 


1 8  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

where  in  some  cases  a  second  story  has  been  added. 
The  windows  are  generally  without  glass,  and  in 
variably  barred  with  rods  of  iron,  giving  them  a 
most  prison-like  aspect.  The  houses  are  always 
built  to  form  two  or  more  sides  of  a  hollow  square, 
the  enclosed  court-yard  being  given  up  to  the  cul 
tivation  of  a  garden,  the  Mexicans  being  extremely 
fond  of  flowers.  Even  when  the  absence  of  room 
or  the  means  of  the  owner  will  not  admit  of  a  gar 
den,  a  few  flowers  in  earthen  pots  (roses,  carnations, 
and  balsams  being  the  favorites)  are  the  adjuncts 
to  a  Mexican  home.  It  is  not,  however,  uriusual 
to  find,  even  in  the  heart  of  the  city — well-culti 
vated  gardens,  in  which  potatoes,  lettuce,  cabbage, 
radishes,  and  other  vegetables  of  a  colder  clime, 
grow  side  by  side  with  chilis,  bananas,  oranges, 
papayas,  and  other  natives  of  the  more  tropical 
regions,  the  glorious  cocoa  trees  always  waving 
their  graceful  arms  above  the  whole,  like  guardian 
spirits  of  the  vegetable  world. 

The  dwellings  of  the  poorer  class  are  mostly 
built  of  adobe  and  thatched  with  corrugated  tiles, 
like  those  still  remaining  in  many  of  the  older  set 
tlements  of  California — of  which  some  picturesque 
specimens  still  exist  in  Santa  Clara  and  San  Jose — 
while  others  are  formed  of  boughs  wattled  together, 
and  mud-plastered  between,  or  of  the  branches  of 
the  cocoa-nut  palm,  interlaced  on  all  sides  so  as  to 
form  a  thatch,  through  which,  however,  in  the  rainy 
season  the  water  pours  without  let  or  hindrance. 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  19 

The  cooking  is  always  done  on  braziers  or  small 
ovens  fed  with  charcoal,  so  that  there  are  no  chim 
neys,  and  consequently  no  smoke.  Fires  to  warm  the 
dwellings  are  quite  unnecessary,  even  in  the  coldest 
seasons,  and  thus  one  of  the  terrors  of  our  boasted 
civilization,  which  has  of  late  years  caused  such 
fearful  devastation  throughout  the  land,  has  here  no 
power,  a  conflagration  being  a  thing  unknown. 
Most  of  the  houses,  too,  would  fail  to  feed  a  fire ; 
nothing  but  the  rafters  which  support  the  roof,  and 
the  doors  and  shutters  of  the  windows  being  built 
of  any  material  which  would  burn. 

The  longest  street  in  the  city  is  the  Calle  del 
Recreo,  which  rs  about  a  mile  in  extent,  and  passes 
through  one  side  of  the  principal  plaza.  The  west 
ern  end  runs  into  the  grand  esplanade  fronting 
on  the  ocean,  called  Los  Altos,  the  favorite  ride 
and  promenade  of  the  beauty  and  fashion  of 
Mazatlan.  Here  are  built  some  of  the  finest 
houses  in  the  city,  the  dwellings  of  the  wealthy  mer 
chants  and  others  of  the  upper  ten,  furnished  with 
exquisite  taste,  in  which  a  generous  and  profuse 
hospitality  is  ex-tended  in  the  most  refined  and 
courteous  manner.  The  city  has  three  plazas,  the 
principal  one  being  oblong  in  form,  about  one  hun 
dred  yards  long,  by  fifty  wide.  The  northern  side 
is  devoted  to  a  hotel,  and  the  rooms  of  the  Mazat 
lan  Club,  an  institution  largely  supported  by  the 
foreign  residents,  and  which,  if  the  favorite  game  of 
monte  be  not  too  rashly  indulged  in,  will  afford  the 


20  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

visitor  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  gain  access  to  its 
somewhat  exclusive  recesses,  many  pleasurable 
hours.  One  corner  of  the  plaza  is  occupied  by  the 
offices  of  the  telegraph  company,  a  line  having  re 
cently  been  carried  across  the  continent,  connecting 
the  city  of  Mexico  with  the  Pacific  seaboard. 
Owing,  however,  to  the  frequent  revolutions  it  is 
sometimes  impossible  to  get  a  message  through,  as 
each  party,  as  it  comes  into  power,  thinks  it  its 
bounden  duty  to  destroy  the  wires  and  poles.  An 
instance  is  on  record,  however,  in  the  times  of 
peace,  of  a  message  occupying  six  weeks  to  reach 
Durango,  a  city  about  one  hundred  and  thirty 
leagues  from  Mazatlan,  so  that,  with  such  manage 
ment,  the  telegraph  service  of  Mexico  would  appear 
to  be  of  little  public  benefit. 

The  plaza  is,  or  rather  was,  surrounded  by  orange 
trees,  for  many  of  them  have  been  allowed  to  go  to 
decay,  and  no  thought  of  replanting  them  appears 
to  have  existed.  Those  that  remain  are  vigorous, 
healthy  trees  ;  at  the  time  of  our  visit  two  or  three 
being  laden  with  fruit  in  every  degree  of  ripeness, 
while  some  were  just  bursting  into  flower.  Some 
curiously  carved  stone  benches,  looking  like  the  re 
mains  of  the  Aztecs,  are  built  around  the  square, 
but  the  seats  have  been  broken  from  many  of  them, 
leaving  only  the  backs  standing,  and,  with  the  true 
spirit  of  Mexican  carelessness  they  will  be  suffered 
gradually  to  crumble  away,  when  a  little  mortar  and 
a  few  hours'  work  would  restore  them  to  their  origi- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  21 

nal  condition.  Near  the  plaza,  is  an  imposing-look 
ing  building,  one  of  the  first  which  strikes  the  eye 
of  the  visitor  as  he  approaches  the  city  from  the 
bay,  which  was  intended  for  an  opera-house,  but, 
owing  to  the  death  of  its  projector,  on  his  voyage 
from  San  Francisco,  it  has  never  been  completed, 
and  is  now  entirely  given  over  to  the  pigeons  and 
turkey-buzzards,  who  make  of  it  a  roosting-place. 
The  internal  arrangements  are  made  with  consider 
able  taste,  the  auditorium  consisting  of  a  large  par- 
quette,  capable  of  seating  about  four  hundred  per 
sons,  the  upper  portion  of  the  house  being  divided 
into  four  tiers  of  boxes,  each  enclosed  with  elegant 
designs  in  iron-work,  now  in  many  cases  displaced 
from  their  position  and  thrown  to  the  ground  to 
rust  and  decay.  The  roof  has  been  pierced  for  the 
reception  of  a  chandelier,  and  there  is  everywhere 
evidence  of  the  best  intentions  as  to  the  adornment 
of  the  building.  The  workmen  had  so  far  advanced 
with  their  labor  (when  the  sudden  death  of  the  pro 
prietor  brought  the  work  to  a  conclusion),  that  a  few 
hundred  dollars  would  suffice  to  finish  it,  yet  no  one 
has  been  found  with  enough  public  spirit  to  take 
the  matter  in  hand,  and  this,  one  of  the  most  im 
posing  structures  in  the  city,  has  therefore  written 
upon  it  the  sentence  of  decay. 

The  people  of  Mazatlan  are  not,  however,  en 
tirely  without  amusements.  There  is  a  small 
theatre,  or  rather  a  hall  with  a  stage  at  the  end  of 
it,  where  dramatic  and  other  performances  are  occa- 


IVV.ITIB.SIT7] 


22  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

sionally  given,  which  are  always  well  patronized  and 
enjoyed  by  the  audience.  The  Mazatlan  stage  boasts 
of  a  few  excellent  local  artists,  the  style  of  acting 
most  in  vogue  being  that  of  the  modern  conversa 
tional  school.  The  theatre  is  decorated  with  excel 
lent  portraits  of  some  of  the  more  eminent  drama 
tists  of  Europe,  among  whom  I  noticed  Shakespeare, 
Moliere,  Lopez  de  Vega,  Cervantes,  and  Byron. 
There  are  many  customs  connected  with  the  drama 
in  Mazatlan  which  are  rather  disagreeable  to  a 
foreigner.  In  the  first  place,  every  man  smokes 
during  the  whole  entertainment,  enveloping  the 
whole  place  in  a  cloud  of  that  vapor  which  was 
so  offensive  in  the  nostrils  of  His  Majesty  James 
the  1st  of  blessed  memory.  Then,  the  perform 
ance,  which  is  advertised  to  commence  precisely 
at  eight  o'clock,  rarely  begins  before  nine,  while 
the  waits  between  the  acts  are  simply  intolerable  ; 
a  play  of  three  acts,  which  could  easily  be  finish 
ed  by  ten  o'clock,  in  all  cases  lasting  up  to  half- 
past  eleven,  and  sometimes  much  later.  But  Mexicans 
are  never  in  a  hurry,  and  " poco  tiempo  "  and  "  man- 
ana"  are  the  words  in  their  vocabulary  most  fre 
quently  in  use.  I  should  also  mention  that,  except 
on  particular  occasions,  programmes  of  the  perform 
ance  are  rarely  issued,  publicity  being  given  to  the 
same  by  a  band  parading  the  streets  during  the  day. 
The  ladies  attend  the  theatre  in  modern  Ameri 
can  costume,  discarding  their  own  graceful  and  be 
coming  rebosa  for  a  vile  imitation  of  the  worst 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  23 

fashions  of  their  neighbors,  spoiling  the  appearance 
o'f  their  own  usually  waving,  long  black  hair  by 
those  horrible  excrescences  called  chignons,  and 
utterly  destroying  the  character  of  their  clear  olive 
complexions  by  plastering  them  with  paint  and 
pearl  powder.  The  poorer  class  are  great  lovers  of 
the  theatre,  and  will  live  upon  nothing,  and  go  with 
bare  feet  for  weeks,  in  order  to  save  the  treasured 
dos  reales  which  shall  give  them  the  entrance  to 
their  favorite  amusement.  They  seem  to  relish 
keenly  every  joke  uttered  by  the  actors,  and  ap 
plaud  every  point  with  infinite  zest  and  good 
humor. 

We  found  the  evenings  sometimes  rather  lonely 
in  Mazatlan,  and  upon  one  occasion,  when  the 
theatre  was  closed,  we  visited  a  grand  panorama 
professing  to  give  us  correct  representations  of  the 
principal  cities  of  Europe  and  America.  From  the 
flourish  of  trumpets  which  accompanied  the  an 
nouncement,  we  expected  something  at  least  toler 
ably  good  ;  we  saw  a  miserable  peep-show,  lighted 
by  two  sputtering  oil  lamps,  and  consisting  of  a 
series  of  magnifying  bull's-eyes,  through  which  we 
viewed  the  wonderful  pictures  gathered  at  great 
cost  by  the  proprietor.  A  wretched  hand-organ  be 
hind  the  scenes,  which  every  now  and  then  stopped 
suddenly,  in  spite  of  the  vigorous  manipulation  of  its 
owner,  and  then  as  suddenly  went  on  again,  taking 
up  the  tune  some  sixteen  bars  beyond  where  it  left 
off,  was  the  sole  accompaniment  of  this  wretched 


24  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

swindle.  But  worst  of  all  was  the  view  of  San 
Francisco.  Now,  I  have  never  been  to  Lisbon  or 
Palermo,  and  therefore  I  might  be  imposed  upon  as 
to  the  external  appearance  of  these  cities,  but  I  do 
know  something  about  San  Francisco,  and  when  I 
saw  some  impossible  city,  in  which  a  huge  elephant 
paraded  the  suburbs,  while  a  gigantic  ostrich  stalked 
calmly  by  his  side,  I  began  to  think  that  the  pro 
prietor's  views  of  natural  history  were  somewhat 
mixed,  and  to  wonder  what  ideas  the  rising  genera 
tion  of  Mexico  would  form  of  the  natural  produc 
tions  of  the  Golden  State.  We  left  the  grand  pan 
orama  in  disgust,  and  did  not  visit  it  again  during 
its  stay  in  the  city. 

The  principal  stores  are  elegant  in  their  appoint 
ments  and  contain  an  excellent  assortment  of  goods 
of  all  kinds  ;  the  prices,  as  far  as  we  could  judge, 
being  much  the  same  as  those  of  San  Francisco, 
except  for  linens  and  silks,  which  were  very  much 
lower.  There  are  no  shop-windows  in  which  to  dis 
play  the  goods,  and  no  posters  whatever  about  the 
walls  to  intimate  where  certain  articles  are  to  be 
purchased,  so  that  the  intending  customer  has  to 
seek  somewhat  industriously  for  whatever  he  may  re 
quire.  There  are  no  newspapers  in  which  to  adver 
tise,  those  published  being  simply  small  broadsheets 
of  daily  news,  generally  in  part,  if  not  wholly,  con 
trolled  by  the  government,  and  the  shopkeeper  has 
therefore  to  depend  upon  his  reputation  and  the 
absolute  wants  of  the  community  for  the  sale  of  his 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  2$ 

wares.  There  are  few  manufactories  on  the  Pacific 
coast  of  Mexico ;  sombreros,  scrapes,  pottery,  and  har 
ness-work  being  the  principal  productions.  We  saw 
several  very  elegantly  mounted  saddles  and  bridles, 
some  profusely  ornamented  with  silver,  a  Mexican 
taking  great  pride  in  the  adornments  of  his  charger. 
Within  the  last  few  years  an  American  gentle 
man  named  Howell  has  established  a  cotton  fac 
tory  in  Mazatlan,  which  appeared  to  do  a  very 
paying  business.  The  cotton  is  grown  in  the  in 
terior  and  brought  in  its  raw  state  to  Mazatlan, 
where  it  undergoes  all  the  processes  of  cleaning, 
ginning,  spinning,  and  weaving  into  manta,  or  un 
bleached  calico,  of  which  the  jackets  and  trousers 
worn  by  the  Mexicans  are  invariably  made.  The 
labor  is  all  performed  by  Mexicans,  who  in  time 
make  excellent  operatives,  a  number  of  boys  of  ages 
ranging  from  eleven  to  fifteen  being  among  the 
brightest  of  the  whole.  The  wages  paid  are  misera 
bly  small,  thirty-seven  and  a  half  cents  a  day  being 
the  average  amount,  out  of  which  the  poor  people 
have  to  find  themselves.  One  dollar  a  day  is  the 
pay  of  the  foreman  of  the  establishment,  who,  at 
the  time  of  our  visit,  was  an  American,  very  anxious 
to  return  to  his  native  country.  Large  quantities  of 
the  calico  find  their  way  to  Durango  and  Chihuahua, 
where  it  is  sold  at  the  rate  of  about  eight  dollars  for 
a  bale  of  forty  yards.  Close  to  this  establishment  is 
a  match  factory,  also  owned  by  an  American,  where 
matches  of  an  excellent  quality  are  made  in  large 


26  A  MINGLED    YARAT. 

quantities,  and  find  a  very  ready  sale.  Mr.  Howell 
and  his  brother  had  recently  obtained  a  charter  to 
light  Mazatlan  with  gas,  an  improvement  for  which 
the  inhabitants  ought  to  have  been  eternally 
grateful,  but  I  regret  to  say  that  the  speculation 
proved  any  thing  but  remunerative,  and  that  the 
Messrs.  Howell  were  yearly  heavy  losers  by  the 
transaction.  Before  the  introduction  of  gas,  the 
streets  of  the  city  were  continually  the  scenes  of  out 
rages  and  robberies,  sometimes  accompanied  by  bru 
tal  violence ;  now  such  occurrences  are,  to  say  the 
least,  uncommon,  and  on  the  whole  good  order  and 
decency  prevail.  A  policeman  with  loaded  musket 
and  a  lighted  lantern  stands  at  the  corner  of  every 
street,  and  after  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening  whistles 
loudly  every  half  hour,  thus  serving  a  double  pur 
pose,  by  intimating  the  time  of  night,  and  giving 
evidence  of  his  presence.  He  is  never  allowed  to 
leave  his  post,  so  that  in  Mazatlan,  at  least,  a  police 
man  is  always  to  be  found  when  wanted.  In  addi 
tion  to  this  force,  mounted  police,  well  armed, 
parade  the  streets  during  the  day  and  night,  by 
their  presence  awing  the  desperadoes,  and  enforcing 
the  strictest  quiet  and  order  throughout  the  city. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  existence  of  two  other  plazas, 
one  of  which  is  situated  in  the  old  town,  and  is  now 
rapidly  falling  to  ruin.  The  hospital,  which  is  a 
most  melancholy  place,  suggestive  of  every  horror 
which  can  afflict  the  human  frame,  occupies  one  end 
of  it,  and  might  readily  be  taken  for  a  prison,  its 


THREE   WEEKS  IN  MAZA  TLAN.  2? 

dark  and  gloomy  portals  admitting  not  a  ray  of  sun 
shine,  while  through  the  iron  bars  of  their  dismal 
dwelling,  the  poor  inmates,  in  every  stage  of  dis 
ease,  stare  longingly  at  the  street  without,  and 
beg  an  alms  from  the  passers  by.  This  was 
the  saddest  sight  we  saw  in  Mazatlan,  and  its 
recollection  must  remain  fixed  upon  our  minds. 
The  other  plaza  is  called  the  Plaza  el  Toros,  and  has, 
as  its  name  implies,  occasionally  been  devoted  to 
bull-fights ;  the  sport  of  which  the  Spanish  races, 
wherever  found,  are  inordinately  fond,  but  it  is  now 
in  a  state  of  dirt  and  neglect.  A  little  beyond 
this  plaza  lies  the  cathedral  of  Mazatlan  ;  not  such 
an  edifice  as  is  often  found  in  Spanish  America,  in 
which  architectural  grandeur  is  heightened  by  the 
most  lavish  and  costly  decoration,  but  a  miserable, 
whitewashed,  tumble-down  place,  containing  a  few 
tawdily  dressed  figures ;  a  worn-out  table-cloth,  dec 
orated  with  shells  and  spangles,  serving  for  the 
covering  of  the  altar.  The  floor  is  of  brick,  worn 
into  holes  by  the  feet  of  the  many  devotees,  and 
the  wood-work  of  the  interior  is  everywhere  per 
forated  by  insects,  and  fast  crumbling  into  dust. 
An  attendant  in  a  white  jacket,  looking  like  the 
waiter  of  a  hotel,  who  begged  from  us  as  we  came 
away,  was  the  sole  occupant  of  the  place  at  the  time 
of  our  visit,  and,  indeed,  we  learned  upon  inquiry, 
that  the  claims  of  religion  are  little  recognized,  at 
least  by  the  rich  portion  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Mazatlan.  The  women  always  on  Sunday  morn- 


28  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

ings  dress  themselves  in  their  very  best  and  most 
showy  costume,  and  go  regularly  to  matins,  but  be 
yond  this,  little  attention  to  religious  duties  seems 
to  prevade  the  community.  A  few  years  since,  the 
host  was  carried  publicly  through  the  streets,  the 
priest  following,  decked  in  his  gayest  robes,  while 
the  festal  days  of  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar  were 
faithfully  and  strictly  observed.  The  accession  of 
Juarez  to  power,  however,  destroyed  the  influence  of 
the  priests,  and  drove  them  from  the  cities  to 
seek  "  fresh  fields  and  pastures  new."  Now  two 
alone  remain  in  Mazatlan,  and  these  are  unobtrusive 
gentlemen,  who  accept  matters  as  they  are,  and 
quietly  make  the  best  of  them.  At  a  little  distance 
from  the  church,  stands  what  there  is  of  a  grand 
cathedral,  commenced  some  seven  years  ago,  upon 
which  upwards  of  $17,000  have  been  expended, 
but  which  remains,  and  is  likely  to  remain,  in  an 
unfinished  state,  given  over,  like  the  theatre,  to 
the  rats,  bats,  and  turkey-buzzards  which  every 
where  swarm  throughout  the  streets  of  the  town. 
It  is  noticeable  that  the  two  largest  and  most  im 
portant  buildings  in  the  whole  city,  the  cathedral 
and  the  theatre,  should  remain  unfinished,  and  be  suf 
fered  gradually  to  moulder  away,  as  appears  to  be 
their  inevitable  destiny.  Beyond  these  there  are 
few  public  buildings  of  any  importance,  the  barracks 
of  the  soldiers  being  nothing  more  than  a  collection 
of  large  adobe  huts  built  in  the  form  of  a  square, 
while  the  prison  is  a  miserable  den  open  to  the  street, 


THREE   WEEKS  IN  MAZA  TLAN.  2Q 

the  inmates  secured  by  iron  bars,  behind  which, 
unless  confined  for  some  very  serious  offence,  they 
laugh  and  joke  and  drink  with  those  of  their  com 
rades  who  enjoy  their  freedom.  The  tenants  of 
the  prison  at  the  time  of  our  visit  were  mostly  sol 
diers,  who  were  incarcerated  for  drunkenness  and 
other  petty  offences,  and  who  seemed  to  treat  their 
imprisonment  with  all  the  levity  at  their  command. 
These  soldiers  are  a  most  repulsive-looking  lot  of 
fellows,  idle,  drunken,  and  dissolute ;  they  wander 
about  the  streets  in  large  bodies,  sometimes  of  thirty 
or  forty  strong,  clad  in  uniforms  of  what  once  might 
have  been  white  calico,  but  which  is  now  so  be 
grimed  with  dirt,  and  generally  in  such  a  state  of 
rags,  that  FalstafFs  regiment  would  seem  a  well- 
dressed  crowd  beside  them.  They  are  the  terror  of 
quiet  and  respectable  people,  and  as  they  pass  along 
it  is  usual  to  give  them  as  wide  a  berth  as  possible. 
If  it  so  pleases  them,  they  enter  a  store  and  call  for 
mescal,  which  for  peace  and  quietness  the  proprie 
tor  is  bound  to  give  them,  and  after  a  day's  debauch, 
the  materials  for  which  have  been  thus  easily  ob 
tained,  they  not  unfrequently  proceed  in  a  body  to 
the  grand  esplanade,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and 
perform  their  ablutions  in  the  bay,  close  to  the 
dwellings  and  immediately  under  the  eyes  of  most 
of  the  more  refined  inhabitants  of  the  city.  It  is 
useless  to  protest  against  their  outrages,  as  no  re 
dress  could  be  obtained,  and  to  resent  any  insult 
offered  by  them,  would  at  any  time  be  fraught  with 


30  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

considerable  danger,  as  a  Mexican  never  forgives, 
and  either  by  himself,  or  by  the  hands  of  his  friend, 
would  watch  an  opportunity  to  have  his  revenge 
when  none  were  near  to  tell  the  tale.  I  had  been 
told  a  number  of  rather  alarming  stories  of  the  do 
ings  of  these  fellows  during  the  first  days  of  our 
stay,  and  as  I  never  had  very  strong  military  pro 
clivities  I  was  always  glad  to  get  out  of  their  way. 
If  we  saw  them  coming  one  road,  we  invariably  went 
another,  and  for  a  long  time  contrived  to  avoid 
them,  until  on  a  Sunday  morning,  on  which  day 
nearly  the  whole  force  in  the  barracks  are  allowed 
their  liberty,  we  came  full  tilt  upon  about  a  hun 
dred  of  them,  some  of  them  half  drunk,  and  all  more 
or  less  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  singing  and 
shouting  and  rolling  along  the  street,  the  very  im 
personations  of  dissipation  in  its  worst  and  most 
brutal  form.  They  were  accompanied  by  some  wo 
men,  almost  as  degraded-looking  as  themselves,  who 
had  also  apparently  been  paying  attention  to  the 
"  rosy,"  and  I  confess  I  almost  trembled  as  I  saw  no 
hope  of  turning  out  of  their  way.  There  was  noth 
ing  for  it  but  to  pass  right  through  the  crowd, 
so  putting  a  bold  face  on  the  matter,  we  walked 
boldly  toward  them,  and  hardly  knew  where  we 
were  until  we  found  ourselves  in  their  midst.  I 
began  to  wish  myself  safe  at  the  hotel,  from  which 
we  were  considerably  more  than  a  mile  distant,  and 
experienced  something  of  that  feeling  which  lives 
among  my  memories  as  a  boy,  in  which  a  cold  shud- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  31 

der  running  down  the  back,  and  a  gradual  elevation, 
one  by  one,  of  all  the  hairs  of  the  head,  used  to  fol 
low  the  relation  of  some  horrible  ghost  story. 

Suddenly  the  whole  army  stopped,  as  if  about  to 
make  a  concerted  attack  upon  us,  whispering  to 
each  other  and  pointing  toward  us  in  a  most  sus 
picious  manner.  I  quickened  my  pace,  but  at  the 
same  time  turned  boldly  to  face  the  enemy,  when 
I  saw  upon  the  countenances  of  all  nearest  to  us, 
an  expression  in  which  curiosity  and  wonderment 
were  strangely  mingled,  and  instead  of  frowns  and 
threatening  looks,  a  half-grim  smile  pervaded  the 
features  of  all.  They  were  whispering  to  each  other 
and  pointing  at  my  wife,  and  I  caught  among  other 
words,  those  of  one  fellow,  evidently  the  wit  of  the 
party,  shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice :  "  La 
senorita  !  "  They  then  burst  into  a  loud  horse-laugh, 
amid  the  enjoyment  of  which  we  passed  on  our  way. 
The  cause  of  their  surprise  and  laughter  was  the 
large  sun-hat  which  my  wife  wore,  and  which,  as  I 
learned  afterward,  procured  her  the  title  through 
out  Mazatlan  of  "  the  lady  with  the  umbrella  on 
her  head." 

With  the  exception  of  my  friends,  the  military, 
the  population  of  Mazatlan  is  by  no  means  given  to 
drunkenness,  and  among  fourteen  thousand  people 
the  best  possible  order  usually  prevails.  The  liquor 
most  in  use  among  them  is  the  different  grades  of 
spirit  extracted  from  the  Agave,  or  American  aloe 
(Agave  Mexicana),  and  known  under  the  names  of 


[VI17B&SXT7J 


32  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

pulque,  mescal  (a  contraction    of  Mexical),  maguay, 
and  tequila. 

The  best  quality,  which  is  very  rarely  to  be 
obtained  (as  the  Mexicans,  among  the  few  arts 
which  they  have  borrowed  from  their  more  civilized 
neighbors,  have  learned  to  perfection  that  of  adul 
terating  liquors),  is  a  pleasantly-flavored  spirit, 
with  a  mixed  taste  of  Peruvian  Italia,  and  Scotch 
whiskey,  and  is  probably  very  intoxicating  if 
drank  in  sufficient  quantity.  A  large  revenue  is 
derived  by  the  government  from  the  tax  on  this 
production,  the  chief  quantity  of  which  is  made 
in  the  interior  of  the  country.  The  several  species 
of  aloe  are  of  remarkable  value  to  the  Mexicans,  and 
are  turned  to  a  variety  of  uses,  the  fibre  making 
a  very  strong  and  durable  cordage,  the  refuse  of  the 
leaves  being  formed  into  paper  of  a  coarser  quality, 
and  the  juice  of  the  young  stems  into  excellent 
soap.  In  addition  to  this,  the  most  impenetrable 
fences  are  made  of  the  agave  and  cactus  combined, 
which  have  the  double  advantage  of  growing  more 
and  more  impenetrable  as  they  increase  in  age. 
Over  all  the  rocky  hills  and  islands  near  Mazatlan 
some  species  of  agave  grow  in  considerable  abun 
dance,  their  dark-green  foliage,  terminated  by  sharp 
spines  and  surmounted  by  their  grand  spike  of  yel 
lowish,  sweet-scented  flowers,  being  among  the  first 
objects  to  excite  the  attention  of  the  stranger.  In 
the  market-place  of  the  city  may  be  found  a  num 
ber  of  the  products  of  this  mescal  plant,  and  nearly 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  33 

every   Mexican  who   can  afford   it,   keeps  his  own 
still  for  the  distillation  of  his  favorite  beverage. 

The  market  is  one  of  the  interesting  features  of 
the  place,  and  among  the  first  spots  to  which 
the  visitor  directs  his  attention.  It  fills  up  a 
large  square  or  block  close  to  the  unfinished  cathe 
dral  of  which  I  have  spoken,  the  stalls  being  ar 
ranged  in  rows,  the  meat  sellers  occupying  the 
chief  part  of  the  centre.  Here  may  be  found, 
at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  excellent  lettuce, 
onions,  radishes,  turnips,  and  other  familiar  vege 
tables,  while  dried  beans,  or  frijoles,  singular-look 
ing  fruits,  gourds  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and  the 
ever-present  chilis,  attract  the  native  population. 
The  meat  is  cut  into  long  strips,  in  a  manner  quite 
unknown  to  us,  and  looks  as  if  it  were  intended  to 
be  sold  by  the  yard  ;  pork,  of  a  very  superior  quality, 
and  beef,  being  the  most  common.  A  good  leg  of 
mutton,  or  a  porter-house  steak,  is  a  thing  unknown 
in  Mexico,  and  the  manner  of  cooking  utterly  de 
stroys  our  ideas  as  to  how  our  meats  should  be 
eaten.  The  breed  of  sheep  most  in  favor  appears 
to  be  a  long-horned,  coarse-wool  breed,  which  do 
not  readily  take  on  fat,  and  are  therefore  not  the 
best  kind  for  the  butcher.  Occasionally  a  deer 
makes  its  appearance  in  the  market,  and  finds  a 
ready  sale ;  and  more  rarely,  the  carcass  of  the 
curious  little  animal,  the  armadillo,  whose  body  is 
covered  by  a  horny  shield,  is  brought  in  from  the 
country  districts,  and  is  in  high  favor  with  the  Mex- 


34  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

ican  gourmand.  A  living  specimen  of  this  very  sin 
gular  and  interesting  creature  was  one  day  brought 
to  our  hotel,  and  tied  by  its  leg  to  a  post  in  the 
court-yard.  In  a  day  or  two  it  became  quite  famil 
iar,  and  was  a  perfect  pet  among  the  people  stop 
ping  in  the  place,  enjoying  the  society  of  man,  and 
always  putting  up  its  nose  to  be  rubbed  when  any 
one  approached  it. 

One  morning,  just  as  we  were  preparing  for  our 
first  meal,  we  heard  a  cry  of  pain,  which  sounded 
almost  like  a  human  voice,  and  on  inquiring  the 
cause,  learned  that  poor  little  armadillo  had  just  suf 
fered  the  death  penalty,  and  that  his  body  was  to 
be  served  up  to  us  that  day  for  dinner.  Under 
other  circumstances  I  should  have  been  glad  to 
know  something  of  the  taste  of  the  flesh,  but  to 
feed  upon  the  body  of  a  creature  which,  only  a  day 
before,  we  had  caressed  and  petted,  wras  more  than 
we  could  stand,  and  with  the  death-cry  of  the  little 
wretch  ringing  in  our  ears  we  passed  him  by  un- 
tasted.  Fish  of  various  species  and  of  excellent 
quality  are  always  to  be  found,  and  plenty  of  chick 
ens  find  their  way  into  the  market,  but  when  placed 
upon  the  table  they  are  usually  so  tough  (for  they 
never  kill  any  thing  but  the  old  fowls)  that  I  can 
say  but  little  in  their  favor.  Very  few  potatoes  are 
as  yet  grown  in  Sinaloa,  those  used  being  nearly  all 
imported  from  San  Francisco,  and  retailing  at  the 
high  price  of  twelve  and  a  half  cents  a  pound.  But 
ter  is  remarkably  scarce  and  very  high  in  price, 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  35 

none  whatever  being  produced  in  the  state,  but 
brought  also  from  San  Francisco,  and  doled  out 
very  sparingly  to  whomsoever  may  require  it. 
Nevertheless,  we  constantly  met  on  the  outside  of 
the  city  large  droves  of  well-shaped,  finely  bred  cat 
tle,  capable  of  producing  any  quantity  of  milk  and 
butter,  but  seldom  or  ever  put  to  this  useful  pur 
pose.  These  cattle  are  naturally  quiet  and  manage 
able,  but  have  been  rendered  quite  the  reverse  by 
the  bad  treatment  of  their  owners.  If  a  Mexican 
wants  to  do  any  thing,  milk  a  cow,  for  instance,  he 
generally  contrives  to  go  the  farthest  way  round  to 
accomplish  his  purpose.  In  the  case  of  this  com 
monplace  operation,  the  services  of  not  less  than  six 
men  are  required  :  one  to  lasso  the  animal,  another 
to  each  of  her  horns,  one  to  each  hind  leg,  and  one 
to  milk;  the  gentleman  with  the  lasso,  after  having 
secured  the  beast,  usually  lighting  a  cigarette  and 
holding  the  calf.  It  is  no  wonder  that  the  poor  ani 
mals  object  to  the  process  of  milking,  and  that  they 
become  restive  and  unmanageable  under  this  system 
of  treatment.  The  milk  is  of  fair  quality,  and  is 
sold  about  the  streets  at  twenty-five  cents  a  quart, 
the  cry  of  "  leche"  being  one  of  the  first  to  greet 
the  stranger's  ear. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival,  we  were  of  course 
very  anxious  to  be  away  on  our  travels  as  early  as 
possible,  and  rose  with  the  sun,  determined  to  lose 
no  time.  We  sat  at  our  table  in  the  piazza  and 
called  for  our  breakfast.  A  cup  of  coffee  and  a 


3 6  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

small  loaf  of  bread,  with  a  sort  of  microscopic 
shaving  of  butter  on  the  rim  of  a  saucer,  were 
brought  us,  and  we  just  tasted  these  while  the 
substantiate  were  getting  ready.  After  spending 
nearly  half  an  hour  over  this  introduction  to  our 
meal,  I  began  to  think  that  this  was  rather  too 
much  waste  of  time,  and  called  out  to  our  English- 
speaking  friend,  to  know  when  breakfast  was 
coming.  "  Oh,"  said  he,  "  that  's  all  at  present, 
we  don't  have  breakfast  till  half-past  ten ;  this 
is  the  custom  of  the  country,  and  you  only  get 
the  cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate  to  stay  your  ap 
petite  till  the  morning's  meal."  My  countenance 
fell.  I  knew  that  in  Mexico,  punctuality  is  not 
a  prominent  virtue,  and  that  half-past  ten  might 
mean  eleven,  and  the  glorious  butterflies,  which 
I  hoped  to  catch  long  before  that  time  of  day, 
faded  from  my  mental  vision.  But  we  made  up 
our  minds  to  submit  quietly  to  every  thing  without 
a  murmur,  and  walked  out  to  explore  the  city  until 
the  hour  for  refreshment  arrived.  The  meal  was  a 
good  one  when  it  came,  and  we  soon  became  used 
to  these  at  first  inconvenient  hours.  Our  daily 
routine  was  to  rise  at  daybreak,  stroll  about  the 
streets  or  the  market,  make  little  purchases,  or  visit 
any  places  of  note  until  breakfast,  after  which  we 
usually  took  a  carriage  and  drove  for  a  few  miles 
out  of  the  city,  spent  the  day  in  catching  butterflies, 
gathering  plants  or  collecting  shells,  and  walked 
quietly  home  by  about  five  o'clock,  the  hour 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  37 

for  the  hotel  dinner.  When  I  say  a  carriage,  I  al 
lude  to  one  of  the  lumbering  hacks  of  the  place,  a 
sort  of  seedy  barouche,  with  a  covering  of  oil-cloth 
to  protect  us  from  the  sun,  drawn  by  a  couple  of 
horses,  sometimes  mules,  and  driven  by  a  civil  and 
obliging  Mexican,  who  soon  became  accustomed  to 
our  ways,  drove  us  into  good  places  for  our  sport, 
and  usually  charged  us  half  a  dollar  for  a  drive  of 
about  a  couple  of  miles. 

Upon  two  other  occasions  we  went  for  a  drive 
with  some  friends,  when  we  penetrated  for  a  con 
siderable  distance  into  the  country,  and  returned 
with  heightened  impressions  of  its  beauty.  On  one 
of  these,  we  rode  in  a  sort  of  spring  wagon,  covered 
with  canvas,  with  seats  for  six  persons,  and  drawn 
by  five  white  horses,  three  in  front  and  two  at  the 
pole,  our  equipage  causing  no  inconsiderable  stir  in 
the  streets  of  Mazatlan.  The  harness,  it  is  true,  was 
not  highly  ornamented,  and  was  tied  in  some  weak 
spots  with  pieces  of  tape  and  packthread,  but  the 
horses  were  full  of  spirit  and  rattled  us  along  the 
excellent  road  for  some  twenty  miles  in  a  glorious 
style.  It  takes  two  men  in  Mexico,  however,  to 
drive  a  team,  one  to  hold  the  reins  and  crack  the 
whip,  and  the  other  to  help  by  shouting  and  pelting 
the  horses  with  small  cobble-stones,  a  number  of 
which  he  carried  in  a  rawhide  bag  beside  him  on 
the  seat.  If  the  horses  lagged  a  little,  or  came  to 
a  bad  place  in  the  road,  this  gentleman  would  jump 
off  the  box,  run  alongside  them  for  a  few  yards, 


3  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

start  them  into  a  gallop,  then  remount  his  seat  with 
the  greatest  ease,  and  continue  the  enjoyment  of  his 
cigar.  In  this  way  he  performed  some  really  diffi 
cult  feats,  and  would  certainly  have  made  his  fortune 
in  a  circus.  Upon  another  occasion,  an  American 
gentleman  who  owns  a  buggy  and  pair,  one  of  the 
few  in  the  city,  was  kind  enough  to  invite  us  to  join 
him  in  a  ride,  and  we  looked  forward  to  a  spin  be 
hind  a  fast  pair  of  trotters.  We  were  doomed  to 
disappointment ;  the  buggy  was  a  double-seated 
one,  well  built  and  roomy,  but  the  horses  were  the 
most  miserable  pair  of  bare-boned,  broken-down 
wretches  I  ever  saw,  out  of  whom  to  get  more  than 
four  or  five  miles  an  hour  would  be  an  impossi 
bility.  Of  course  we  said  nothing,  but  after  we 
had  ridden  a  mile  or  two,  and  our  friend  had 
used  up  his  arm  in  flogging  and  urging  the  poor 
animals  along,  he  said  to  me,  "  I  suppose  you  won 
der  why  I  drive  such  a  miserable  pair  as  this?"  I 
modestly  replied  that  I  did  not  think  they  came  of 
thorough-bred  stock.  "No,"  said  he,  "I  should 
think  not ;  they  are  the  worst  brutes  I  could  find  in 
the  district.  I  used  to  pride  myself  upon  good 
horses,  and  had,  until  the  last  revolution,  a  very  fast 
team,  but  some  of  the  rebel  generals,  when  they 
took  possession  of  the  city,  took  also  a  fancy  to  them, 
and  one  day  sent  down  and  confiscated  them.  I 
bore  this  with  as  good  grace  as  I  could,  and  bought 
another  pair,  still  better  and  faster,  but  upon  the 
rebels  being  recently  driven  out,  and  the  party  of 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  39 

the  government  coming  into  power,  one  of  the 
officers  set  his  eye  upon  my  team,  said  they  were 
wanted  for  military  purposes,  and  sent  some  sol 
diers  to  take  them  from  my  stable  up  to  his  own 
quarters.  To  be  bitten  twice  in  this  way  was 
enough,  so  I  thought  that  little  game  '  played  out,' 
and  now  I  drive  a  pair  that  it  is  not  worth  any 
body's  while  to  steal."  This  little  incident,  which 
I  relate  in  almost  the  words  of  my  friend,  will  serve 
to  show  you  how  much  security  there  is  for  property 
in  the  city  of  Mazatlan.  It  is  well  for  me  to  men 
tion  here  that  the  roads  leading  from  Mazatlan  were 
at  this  season  of  the  year  in  capital  order,  and  ex 
cept  in  some  places  near  the  sea,  which  were  occa 
sionally  flooded  at  high  tides,  would  bear  very 
favorable  comparison  with  many  of  the  roads  in 
California,  the  track  running  for  miles  through 
what  was  once  an  almost  impenetrable  forest  with 
out  encountering  a  stump  or  a  hole.  They  are 
never  metalled,  and  their  excellent  condition  is  prob 
ably  in  part  owing  to  the  porous  nature  of  the  upper 
soil,  which  never,  even  in  the  rainy  season,  when  the 
water  pours  down  in  floods,  suffers  it  to  remain  long 
upon  the  surface. 

We  found  some  excellent  collecting  in  the  vicini 
ty  of  the  town  ;  but  when  our  walks  were  confined 
to  the  immediate  neighborhood,  we  were  always 
followed  by  a  troop  of  children,  who  thought  our 
butterfly-hunting  glorious  sport,  and  entered  into  it 
with  more  energy  than  I  ever  saw  them  display  on 


4O  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

other  occasions.  They  ran  here  and  there,  rushing 
after  the  unfortunate  insects  with  their  hats,  crush 
ing  them  out  of  all  recognizable  shape,  and  bring 
ing  them  to  me  with  an  air  of  the  most  profound 
triumph.  They  would  call  out  to  their  friends  at 
the  neighboring  huts,  and  soon  half  a  dozen  of 
them  would  be  increased  to  twenty. 

One  day  I  found  a  most  curious  and  beautiful 
wasp's  nest,  covered  with  its  living  inhabitants,  and 
was  endeavoring  to -secure  my  prize,  taking  full  pre 
cautions  against  being  stung,  when  the  young 
urchins  destroyed  my  sport  by  pelting  the  nest  and 
the  wasps  with  stones,  spite  of  all  my  protestations, 
depriving  me  of  every  specimen  and  breaking  the 
nest  into  a  thousand  pieces.  This  was  too  much 
for  me  to  bear,  and  I  accordingly  told  them  to 
**  vamoose,"  which,  with  much  reluctance,  they  at 
last  did.  After  this,  they  used  to  follow  us  at  a 
distance,  and  catch  insects  on  their  own  account, 
and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  by  this  time  many 
hundreds  of  butterflies  have  fallen  to  their  sombre 
ros.  These  children  were  bright-eyed,  open-faced 
little  fellows,  revelling  in  dirt  and  freedom,  but 
without  any  of  that  furtive  and  designing  look 
which  is  too  often  the  accompaniment  of  their 
older  relatives.  They,  as  all  of  the  male  sex,  wear 
jacket  and  trousers  of  thin  white  calieo,  with  wide 
sombreros,  more  or  less  ornamented,  mostly  made  of 
straw.  The  men  wear  the  serape,  or  blanket,  many 
of  which  are  of  brilliant  colors,  and  extremely  pict 
uresque  and  ornamental. 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  41 

The  women,  when  young,  are  remarkably  pretty  ; 
their  dark  and  speaking  eyes,  long  eyelashes,  and 
usually  white  teeth,  lighting  up  faces  of  strong 
expression ;  while  their  black  hair,  always  well 
combed  and  glossy,  with  their  graceful  and  well- 
shaped  forms,  moulded  in  all  the  luxuriance  of  a 
tropical  climate,  combine  to  make  them  abundantly 
attractive  to  a  stranger's  eye.  They  appear,  how 
ever,  to  fade  very  early,  and  at  about  thirty  years  of 
age  they  lose  all  traces  of  their  former  beauty,  while 
among  the  elder  members  of  the  sex  may  be  found 
some  veritable  hags,  such  as  with  little  alteration 
would  serve  for  the  witches  of  "  Macbeth,"  or  the 
Fates  of  Michael  Angelo.  The  dresses  of  the 
younger  women  are  usually  of  very  pretty  pat 
terns,  the  products  of  French  looms,  and  hang 
gracefully  over  their  well-moulded  forms  ;  their 
walk,  like  that  of  all  people  free  from  the  trammels 
and  restraints  of  fashion,  being  free,  erect,  and  firm. 
A  white  chemise,  not  always  concealing  the  upper 
part  of  the  body,  and  a  black  or  gray  rebosa  com 
plete  their  costume ;  the  ever-present  cigarette,  and 
the  tobacco  stains  upon  their  lips  and  fingers,  giving 
evidence  of  their  love  for  the  soothing  weed.  They 
are  invariably  affable,  courteous,  and  kind,  and  we 
never  paused  to  look  through  the  door-way  of  a  house, 
without  being  invited  to  enter,  to  take  the  best  seat 
the  dwelling  afforded,  and  to  inspect  every  thing  of 
interest  which  it  contained.  They  are  remarkably 
fond  of  pets,  and  no  hut,  however  poor,  is  without 


42  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

its  parrot,  dog,  or  cat,  while  the  pigs  are  generally 
allowed  to  share  the  hospitalities  of  the  mansion. 
They  appear  to  do  a  considerable  share  of  the  usual 
labor  which  is  the  lot  of  the  poor,  though  in  no  case 
did  we  see  women  carrying  heavy  burdens,  beyond 
their  purchases  from  the  market,  and,  on  the  whole, 
they  looked  as  if  they  were  well  treated  and  con 
tented  with  their  lot.  The  making  of  the  everlasting 
tortillas,  the  chief  article  of  food  of  the  lower  classes, 
appeared  to  be  their  chief  occupation.  These  tortillas 
are  the  pulpy  paste  of  hulled  corn,  ground  by  hand, 
by  a  block  of  hewn  lava  about  a  foot  long  and  three 
inches  in  thickness,  upon  a  stone  trough  placed  at  an 
angle  of  about  45°.  After  the  paste  has  attained  its 
proper  consistency,  it  is  beaten  out  by  the  hand 
into  round  flat  cakes,  and  then  baked  upon  a  hot 
stone.  Occasionally,  among  the  better  class,  a  most 
delicate  and  palatable  dish  is  made  of  these  tortillas 
by  adding  chopped  meat,  grated  cheese,  finely  cut 
onions,  peppers,  and  tomatoes,  with  a  dash  of  garlic 
added  ;  and  the  proper  mixture  of  the  ingredients 
for  the  ensclados,  as  they  are  called,  is  the  chief 
triumph  of  the  culinary  art.  The  pottery  used  in 
every  Mexican  household  is  of  remarkably  pretty 
designs,  reminding  one  of  some  specimens  which  are 
brought  from  Pompeii.  It  is  of  hard  finish,  and 
very  clear  and  strong.  It  is  mostly  made  far 
in  the  interior,  and  when  we  consider  that  it  has  to 
be  brought  for  hundreds  of  miles  over  the  mountain 
roads,  it  is  astonishing  that  it  can  be  sold  at  so 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  43 

reasonable  a  rate  ;  as  a  whole  assortment  of  sizes, 
shapes,  and  patterns,  numbering  about  fifteen  or  six 
teen  pieces,  can  be  purchased  for  a  dollar.  In 
these  are  cooked  the  chilis  and  frijoles,  a  kind  of 
dark-red  bean,  which,  with  the  tortillas,  form  the 
leading  article  of  diet  with  the  humbler  classes. 
The  plants  on  which  these  beans  grow,  are  most 
beautiful  climbers,  with  large  bunches  of  lilac  and 
crimson  flowers,  and  pods,  when  fully  developed, 
twelve  inches  in  length, — plants  which  grow  almost 
wild  in  every  garden,  but  which  would  be  an  orna 
ment  to  any  conservatory.  Upon  our  collecting 
trips  we  often  visited  some  of  the  small  gardens  at 
tached  to  the  dwellings  of  the  poorer  people,  and 
never  without  being  invited  to  carry  away  speci 
mens  of  any  thing  which  the  place  afforded. 

There  were  only  about  twelve  Chinese  in  Mazat- 
lan,  at  the  time  of  our  visit,  and  these  all  filled  the 
positions  of  cooks,  so  that  the  washing  was  done  by 
women,  who  make  use  of  the  water  of  one  of  the 
large  lagoons  about  a  mile  from  the  city  for  the  pur 
pose.  A  hundred  of  them  may  be  seen  sitting  on 
the  banks,  themselves  but  little  encumbered  with 
clothing,  chatting  pleasantly  over  their  work,  while 
some  soldiers,  totally  divested  of  their  apparel,  may 
be  taking  a  bath  and  at  the  same  time  washing  their 
horses  close  by.  We  had  wandered,  soon  after  our 
arrival,  near  to  this  lagoon,  and  had  caused  a  con 
siderable  amount  of  destruction  among  the  insect 
tribes,  when  we  suddenly  encountered  a  rather  sar- 


44  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

donic-looking  Mexican,  who  appeared  interested  in 
our  pursuits.  He  followed  us  for  a  considerable 
distance,  always  keeping  pretty  close  to  us,  and  when 
I  stopped  to  pin  a  butterfly,  poking  his  sombrero 
close  under  my  nose  to  watch  my  movements,  per 
sistently  telling  that  "  muchos  grandos  mariposas  " 
were  to  be  found  a  little  further  on.  "  Further  on" 
we  went,  the  grandos  mariposas  luring  us  away,  until 
we  found  ourselves  close  to  the  cemetery,  far 
from  every  habitation,  and  with  no  human  being 
besides  ourselves  in  sight,  or  within  half  a  mile  of 
us.  Our  companion  would  not  be  cast  off,  but  stuck 
so  closely  to  us,  that  my  wife  began  to  feel  alarmed, 
and  suggested  our  return  home,  saying  that  there  was 
no  one  near  us  but  his  own  countrymen,  and  that  they 
would  be  sure  to  help  him,  and  adding,  by  way  of  a 
clincher:  "  You  know,  Harry,  your  Spanish  is  so 
awfully  bad  that  they  can't  understand  you,  and 
they  might  rob  or  murder  us  without  its  being 
known."  I  said  :  "  Oh,  nonsense — it  's  all  right  ; 
where  's  the  money?"  "  Oh,  that  's  safe  enough," 
said  she,  when  suddenly  it  occurred  to  me  that  we 
were,  perhaps,  giving  him  a  hint  as  to  what  was  best 
for  him  to  do  to  us,  and  I  said  in  a  whisper : 
"  Suppose  the  beggar  speaks  English."  This  was 
enough.  Our  butterfly-hunting  was  spoiled  for  that 
day,  so  we  turned  and  retraced  our  steps  toward  the 
city. 

Perhaps,    after   all,    we    wronged    that    Mexican 
by  our   suspicions,  and  he   may   have  followed  us 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  45 

from  a  real  interest  in  our  pursuit,  and  to  gather 
a  little  knowledge  on  a  subject  hitherto  a  sealed 
book  to  him.  We  soon  arrived  on  the  high-road 
and  among  a  number  of  people,  and  felt  more 
at  our  ease;  but  our  friend  did  not  leave  us  until 
we  came  face  to  face  with  a  custom-house  officer 
carrying  a  drawn  sword  (notched  and  very  rusty), 
who  spoke  English,  and  with  whom  we  had  previ 
ously  formed  a  slight  acquaintance.  Upon  meet 
ing  him,  our  companion  of  the  morning  slunk  off 
toward  the  sea-beach,  and  was  soon  lost  to  sight 
among  some  bushes.  Our  custom-house  friend  told 
us  that  he  was  guarding  the  highroad  with  a  view 
to  preventing  the  entrance  of  any  contraband  goods, 
but  I  suppose  finding  our  society  more  agreeable 
than  his  own  solitary  walk,  he  left  the  road  to  take 
care  of  itself,  and  accompanied  us  back  to  the  city. 
As  he  spent  three  mortal  hours  in  our  society,  I  do 
not  feel  at  all  clear  as  to  how  the  smuggled  goods, 
if  any,  were  prevented  from  entering  the  city  dur 
ing  his  absence. 

The  Mexicans  are  great  people  for  levying  duties, 
and  immediately  outside  of  the  city  are  stations  at 
which  officers  are  always  placed  to  collect  taxes 
upon  all  kinds  of  produce  going  in  or  out  of  the 
city.  They  levy  both  ways,  the  poor  charcoal-car 
rier  having  to  pay  for  his  mule's  burden  as  he  goes 
into  town,  and  for  the  corn  which  he  takes  back  for 
his  family  food  as  he  goes  out  of  it.  The  mer 
chants,  too,  frequently  suffer  in  the  matter  of  duties. 


46  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

During  one  of  the  recent  revolutions,  the  rebels 
drove  the  government  forces  out  of  the  city,  and 
then  proceeded  to  collect  all  duties  upon  goods 
arriving  in  the  port,  compelling  the  merchants  to 
pay  them  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Upon  the 
government  defeating  the  rebels  and  driving  them 
out  of  the  city,  they,  in  their  turn,  demanded  the  re 
payment  of  the  duties  which  had  been  forcibly 
taken  by  the  rebels,  and  in  every  instance  succeeded 
in  collecting  them,  and  this,  too,  in  the  face  of  hav 
ing  left  the  city  entirely  without  protection.  One 
firm  alone  was  victimized  during  our  stay  to  the 
tune  of  over  $11,000.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
revolutions  are  very  frequently  brought  about  by 
some  of  the  foreign  residents,  who,  having  large  con 
signments  of  goods  to  arrive,  look  out  for  some  am 
bitious  and  unprincipled  man,  willing  to  lend  his 
name  to  a  pronunciamento,  and  proclaim  a  new  gov 
ernment.  During  the  excitement  the  goods  are 
passed  at  the  custom-house,  by  order  of  the  parties 
in  power,  free  of  duty,  pretismos  or  forced  loans  are 
levied  upon  those  who  are  best  able  to  pay,  and  so 
the  system  of  wholesale  robbery  goes  on.  In  these 
forced  loans  the  government  forces  are  just  as  bad 
or  worse  than  the  rebels,  for  I  learn,  from  the  most 
reliable  source,  that  out  of  $240,000  paid  by  the 
great  house  of  Echeguron  Brothers  for  forced  loans 
during  the  past  nine  years,  only  $37,000  have  been 
paid  to  the  rebel  forces.  These  constant  revolu 
tions  have,  as  every  one  knows,  been  the  curse  of 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  47 

Mexico,  have  degraded  her  people,  stopped  the 
path  of  progress,  and  rendered  life  and  property 
fearfully  insecure.  Even  during  our  stay  in  Mazat- 
lan,  two  young  men  of  great  promise,  sons  of  an 
old  American  gentleman  whose  name  and  history 
are  well  known  to  me,  were  cut  to  pieces  within 
twelve  miles  of  the  city,  in  consequence  of  some 
land  disputes,  and  the  consul  was  requested  by  the 
bereaved  father  to  make  no  complaint  to  his  gov 
ernment,  or  otherwise  cause  the  outrage  to  become 
public,  as  in  that  case  they  would  murder  him  !  I 
am  fully  convinced  that  only  a  very  small  propor 
tion  of  the  crimes  perpetrated  upon  the  foreign  resi 
dents  of  Mexico  find  their  way  into  our  newspa 
pers,  and  the  frequency  of  the  little  wooden  crosses 
upon  the  roadsides  and  in  the  fields,  each  one  erected 
to  commemorate  some  violent  death,  and  to  ask  a 
prayer  for  the  victim  from  the  passers  by,  is  a  suffi 
cient  evidence  of  the  lawlessness  of  the  people,  and 
of  the  small  importance  they  attach  to  the  crime  of 
shedding  their  fellows'  blood  ! 

In  Mexico,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  principle  of 
justice  is  unknown,  and  that  might  is  everywhere 
superior  to  right,  the  motto  of  all  being,  "  That  they 
should  take  who  have  the  power,  and  they  should 
keep  who  can." 

No  man  now  cares  to  possess  himself  of  a  home, 
for  he  knows  not  how  soon  it  might  be  forcibly 
taken  from  him,  and  he  himself  thrown  upon  the 
world  a  ruined  and  broken  man,  Mines  of  almost 


48  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

fabulous  wealth,  too,  lie  unworked  in  the  interior 
of  the  country,  from  the  same  cause ;  those  in 
the  hands  of  foreigners  being  always  defended  by 
a  large  force  of  men,  and  then  not  to  be  regarded 
as  within  the  pale  of  safety.  The  claims  of 
American  citizens  alone  against  the  Mexican  Gov 
ernment  for  property  destroyed,  houses  ransacked, 
operatives  murdered,  live  stock  carried  off,  and 
other  outrages  during  the  past  nine  years,  amount 
in  the  aggregate  to  over  sixteen  millions  of 
dollars ;  depositions  testifying  to  these  facts,  of 
the  fullest  and  most  complete  character,  from  up 
wards  of  a  hundred  persons,  having  been  collected 
by  General  Adams,  the  commissioner  sent  from 
Washington  to  investigate  the  claims,  these  depo 
sitions  being  in  themselves  of  such  a  remarkable 
character  as  to  read  like  a  romance  of  the  Mid 
dle  Ages.  General  Adams,  in  the  performance 
of  his  duties,  underwent  much  suffering,  and  braved 
many  dangers,  riding  for  hundreds  of  miles  over 
roads  on  which  one  false  step  of  the  mule  might 
precipitate  him  and  his  rider  thousands  of  feet  be 
low,  and  passing  without  a  guard  through  districts 
well  known  to  be  infested  by  bandits  of  the  most 
cruel  and  bloodthirsty  nature.  Seeing  the  worst 
and  the  best  side  of  the  Mexican  character,  he  is 
enabled  to  present  to  his  government  a  fair  state 
ment  of  the  case  at  issue,  and  to  hasten  on  a  better 
state  of  protection  for  the  foreign  residents  of  Mexi 
co  than  has  hitherto  been  accorded  to  them.  If  the 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  49 

foreigners  who  are  now  settled  there  chose  to 
withdraw  from  the  country  there  is  little  doubt  that 
a  series  of  internecine  struggles  would,  in  the  course 
of  years,  so  rapidly  diminish  the  population  as  to 
leave  little  of  the  semblance  of  a  nation. 

In  1821,  when  they  threw  off  the  Spanish  yoke, 
the  Mexicans  numbered  over  fifteen  millions ;  to 
day  the  estimate  comes  under  eight  millions;  inclu 
sive  of  the  large  foreign  element  which  has  since 
that  time  been  introduced.  With  this  terrible  de 
crease  in  the  population  she  presents  the  melan 
choly  spectacle  of  a  nation  fast  falling  to  decay, 
her  approaching  dissolution  brought  chiefly  about 
by  the  ambition  and  greed  of  her  higher  classes, 
who  should  have  been  the  examples  and  upholders 
of  a  better  state  of  things.  The  great  anaconda  of 
the  North,  as  some  of  her  writers  are  pleased  to 
call  the  United  States,  advances  slowly  upon  her 
with  open  jaws;  the  future  of  Mexico  is  plainly 
written  in  the  coming  time,  and  her  destiny  clearly 
and  legibly  foreshadowed.  In  the  common  benefit 
of  our  common  humanity,  let  us  pray  that  that  time 
may  soon  approach,  and  that  the  garden  of  the 
North  American  Continent  may,  under  a  more  en 
lightened  government,  be  made  to  produce  that 
bounteous  fruit  with  which  it  is  so  capable  to  bless 
and  benefit  the  world  ! 

It  is  rarely  that  a  month  passes  without  some  part 
or  other  of  Mexico  being  in  a  state  of  revolution, 
and  during  our  visit  scenes  of  blood  and  rapine  were 


50  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

being  enacted  in  the  Canton  of  Tepic,  only  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Mazatlan,  which  were 
of  a  nature  to  make  the  cheek  pale  and  the  frame 
shudder.  Manuel  Lozada,  "  General  and  Natural 
Chief  of  the  District  of  Tepic,"  as  he  styles  himself, 
had  for  years  past  been  the  terror  of  the  district  in 
which  he  rules  with  despotic  sway,  and  had  hitherto 
defeated  all  attempts  of  the  government  to  dislodge 
him.  The  life  of  this  man  is  full  of  such  terrible  in 
cidents,  that  the  relation  of  them  sounds  almost  in 
credible ;  nevertheless,  hundreds  of  witnesses,  many 
of  whom  have  personally  suffered  from  his  cruelty, 
can  bear  ample  testimony  to  their  truth.  He  is  a 
full-blooded  Indian,  and  one  of  the  most  degraded 
monsters  that  ever  blotted  the  page  of  history,  an 
cient  or  modern.  He  was  born  near  Tepic,  some 
where  about  1824  ;  he  is  therefore  about  fifty  years 
of  age,  and  for  the  earlier  years  of  his  life  worked  as 
muleteer  and  laborer  on  a  ranch  in  the  neighbor 
hood.  He  early  in  life  gave  evidence  of  his  cruel  and 
bloodthirsty  nature.  A  man  named  Morales,  passing 
his  mother's  hut  one  day,  asked  for  water,  which 
for  some  reason  or  other  was  refused  by  the  inhos 
pitable  Indian,  on  which  Morales  applied  to  her 
an  opprobrious  epithet,  and  rode  away.  Lozada, 
then  a  boy  of  about  eighteen  years  of  age,  being 
apprised  of  this,  swore  to  have  his  revenge.  En 
listing  the  services  of  three  companions,  he  followed 
Morales  for  two  days,  until  they  came  upon  his  track, 
when  having  seized  him,  they  killed  his  horse,  tied 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  51 

him  to  a  tree,  cut  the  skin  from  the  soles  of  his  feet, 
and  compelled  him  to  walk  in  this  condition  for  sev 
eral  miles,  until  exhausted  nature  forbade  his  pro 
ceeding  further.  They  then  robbed  him  of  all  he 
possessed,  and  literally  cut  him  to  pieces.  Upon 
this  atrocious  act  being  known,  an  attempt  to  arrest 
Lozada  was  made  by  the  authorities,  but  he  escaped 
with  a  few  followers  to  the  mountains,  the  passes 
and  fastnesses  of  which  were  well  known  to  him, 
and  amidst  which  he  defied  pursuit.  Here  for  sev 
eral  years  he  held  sole  possession ;  and  being  rein 
forced  by  every  desperado  who  could  escape  the 
clutches  of  the  loosely  administered  laws,  until  his 
party  was  upwards  of  two  thousand  strong,  they 
made  constant  raids  in  every  direction,  until  the 
very  name  of  Lozada  was  a  sound  at  which  the 
bravest  quailed.  Villages  burned,  churches  and 
dwellings  ransacked,  men  robbed  and  murdered, 
and  women  outraged,  were  almost  daily  occurrences, 
and  all  efforts  to  dislodge  him  proved  of  no  avail. 
Thousands  of  dollars  were  offered  for  his  capture, 
alive  or  dead,  but  without  effect ;  for  although  he 
several  times  descended  from  the  mountains  and 
placed  Tepic  under  contribution,  he  always  managed 
to  carry  himself  out  of  the  reach  of  the  military, 
and  make  good  his  retreat  to  the  wild  and  rocky 
defiles  where  none  dare  follow  him. 

This  reign  of  terror  continued  for  some  years,  un 
til  about  1860.  When  the  Church  party  came  into 
power,  they  invited  Lozada  from  his  mountains, 


52  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

and  in  pursuance  of  their  wishes  he  came  to  Tepic, 
proclaimed  himself  as  its  governor,  professed  repent 
ance  of  his  crimes,  was  baptized  by  the  head  of 
the  Church,  carried  in  a  grand  procession  through 
the  streets,  and  at  last  canonized  as  a  saint,  his  fes 
tal  day  being  to  this  very  time  most  rigidly  cele 
brated  in  Tepic.  After  this,  he  suppressed  all  out 
rages  throughout  his  district,  taking  and  holding  to 
himself  the  power  to  punish  crime,  and  allowing  no 
one  to  injure  another  even  in  self-defence,  hanging 
or  shooting  any  of  his  followers  for  the  most  trifling 
theft,  and  utterly  abolishing  highway  robberies  and 
other  crimes  until  then  so  rife  around  him.  Beyond 
his  province,  however,  his  band  of  ruffians  continued 
uninterruptedly  their  reign  of  blood,  without  inter 
ference  from  their  chief;  but  it  is  only  just  to  Lo- 
zada  to  say,  that  since  his  so-called  conversion,  he 
has  made  the  district  of  Tepic  the  most  tranquil  in 
the  whole  of  Mexico,  and  perfectly  safe  for  travellers 
and  others,  who  could  journey  through  any  part  of 
his  territory  with  the  utmost  safety.  His  own  cruel 
nature,  however,  has  found  vent  in  the  most  terrible 
and  disgusting  crimes.  He  caused  his  wife  and 
mother  to  be  shot  before  his  eyes  in  the  court-yard 
of  his  own  house,  the  one  for  supposed  infidelity  to 
him,  and  the  other  for  concealing  her  knowledge  of 
it.  He  surrounded  a  village  of  poor  people  who 
had  offended  him,  with  a  troop  of  soldiers,  drove  the 
inhabitants,  numbering  some  one  hundred  souls, 
men,  women,  and  children,  into  their  huts,  mostly 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  53 

made  of  branches  of  the  cocoa  trees,  set  fire  to 
them,  and  roasted  the  poor  wretches  alive.  A  Mr. 
Chase,  an  American  gentleman,  owner  of  a  large 
tobacco  factory  near  Tepic,  once  spoke  his  mind,  in 
the  principal  hotel  of  the  place,  with  reference  to 
Lozada's  doings,  and  that  very  night,  on  his  way 
home,  was  seized,  thrown  into  prison,  and  literally 
chopped  to  pieces  within  a  few  hours  after  his 
honest,  but  perhaps  imprudent,  words  had  been 
spoken.  These  are  but  a  few  instances  of  those  re 
lated  to  me  by  gentlemen  of  credibility,  on  whose 
word  I  could  fully  rely.  I  dare  not  here  mention 
many  other  still  more  revolting  deeds  laid  to  this 
monster's  charge.  With  such  rulers  as  this  what 
must  be  the  state  of  Mexico?  And  yet,  because 
"  there  is  coin  in  it,"  Lozada  is  to-day  upheld  by  a 
powerful  party,  some  English  and  Americans,  I 
blush  to  say  it,  being  numbered  among  his  political 
supporters. 

Lozada  is  a  man  of  low  stature,  with  heavy  brows 
and  long  black  hair,  and  keeps  his  eyes  constantly 
on  the  ground.  He  is  never  known  to  look  a  man  in 
the  face,  his  own  being  almost  concealed  by  a  heavy 
black  sombrero  which  he  wears  low  down  upon  his 
forehead.  The  crafty  wretch  has  always  steadfastly 
refused  to  have  his  portrait  taken,  though  many 
stratagems  have  been  resorted  to  to  obtain  it.  A 
photographer  recently  hired  a  house  opposite  to 
Lozada's  quarters  in  Tepic,  cut  a  hole  through  his 
shutter,  and  fixed  his  camera  exactly  opposite  the 


54  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

balcony  on  which  the  general  was  accustomed  to 
walk.  Our  friend  thought  every  thing  was  all  right, 
and  that  the  coveted  portrait  was  now  a  thing  of 
certainty,  but  Lozada,  with  the  inherent  keenness 
of  his  race,  noticed  the  change  in  the  shutter, 
caused  the  artist  to  be  arrested,  and  gave  him  three 
hours  to  quit  Tepic.  I  need  not  say  that  there  was 
one  photographer  less  in  that  city  on  the  following 
morning.  This  man  is  immensely  wealthy,  his 
money  in  English  banks  alone  amounting,  it  is  said, 
to  over  four  millions  of  dollars  ;  and  by  his  money 
and  the  prestige  which  attaches  to  his  name,  he  is 
enabled  to  surround  himself  with  an  army  which 
numbers  some  15,000  strong,  and  thus  to  form  a 
powerful  antagonist  to  the  government,  who  will 
have  considerable  difficulty  to  deprive  him  of  his 
power. 

His  natural  enemy  is  General  Ramon  Corona,  one 
of  the  most  intelligent,  honest,  and  patriotic  men  in 
Mexico,  who,  when  at  the  head  of  his  army,  never 
goes  better  clad  than  his  soldiers,  and  who,  upon  a 
handsome  saddle  of  the  value  of  $500  being  given 
to  him  in  Colima,  sold  it,  and  divided  the  proceeds 
among  his  half-famishing  troops.  Corona  is  a  young 
man,  full  of  courage  and  enthusiasm,  and  has  sev 
eral  times  put  Lozada  to  a  hard  push,  but  the 
Indian's  superior  strength  has  always  stood  him  in 
stead,  and  he  has  invariably  remained  master  of  the 
situation.  He  appears  to  bear  a  charmed  life,  as  he 
has  been  lanced  twice,  shot  through  and  through, 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  55 

stabbed  several  times,  and  lately  had  his  right  hand 
shattered  and  his  eye  blown  out  by  the  explosion  of 
a  fuse  of  giant  powder  which  some  one  had  placed 
near  his  person  in  the  hope  of  getting  rid  of  him. 
I  was  informed,  however,  by  a  refugee  from  Tepic, 
who  came  to  Mazatlan  only  a  few  days  before  I  left 
it,  and  who  fled  for  safety  to  that  city,  that  Lozada's 
earthly  career  is  fast  drawing  to  a  close.  He  is 
passionately  fond  of  liquor,  and  his  drinking  pro 
pensities  have  of  late  made  such  inroads  upon  his 
constitution,  that  his  death  may  speedily  he  looked 
for.  Should  this  event  soon  happen,  drunkenness 
will  have  done  the  only  good  thing  it  ever  did  in 
the  world's  history,  and  many  persons  in  Mexico 
will  be  enabled  to  say  in  all  sincerity  of  heart, 
"  Thank  God  for  whiskey." 

The  revolution  then  raging  in  Tepic  was  the  chief 
topic  of  excitement  at  the  time  of  our  arrival  in 
Mazatlan,  and  rumors  of  a  most  alarming  character 
were  daily  reaching  us,  while  crowds  of  people  were 
arriving  constantly,  having  been  driven  from  their 
homes  by  Lozada's  troops,  or  by  the  fear  of  what 
might  happen.  The  people  of  Mazatlan  themselves 
scare  terribly  at  the  thought  that  Lozada,  if  he  suc 
ceed  in  defeating  the  government  forces,  will  one  day 
take  possession  of  their  city,  an  operation  not  at  all 
difficult  of  accomplishment,  as  the  whole  force  of 
soldiery  in  Mazatlan  does  not  exceed  five  hundred 
men,  while  the  entire  army  of  the  State  of  Sinaloa 
does  not  reach  eight  hundred.  Those,  however, 


56  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

who  are  best  informed  on  the  subject  seem  to  think 
that  he  has  enough  to  do  to  defend  his  own  terri 
tory  and  to  keep  the  forces  of  the  government  from 
occupying  Tepic.  I  see  by  the  latest  telegraphic 
reports,  that  he  has  threatened  to  burn  this  city, 
the  most  beautiful  and  elegantly  built  town  in  the 
west  of  Mexico!  Our  hotel  seemed  to  be  a  wonder 
ful  receptacle  of  all  the  rumors  which  were  flying 
about  and  disturbing  the  peace  of  the  people,  and 
one  little  Frenchman  in  particular  used  to  choose 
the  hour  in  which  we  sat  down  to  our  dinner,  to 
rush  in  and  destroy  our  appetite  by  his  each  day 
more  horrible  news !  He  always  made  a  rush  into 
the  piazza  with  an  open  copy  of  a  telegram  in  his 
hand,  and  running  his  hands  through  his  hair,  would 
gesticulate  and  strike  an  attitude  with  all  that  ear 
nestness  and  extravagance  of  action  so  peculiar  to 
his  nation.  I  could  occasionally  catch  the  words, 
"  Lozada — beware — blood — death  !  "  and  such-like 
soothing  sounds ;  but  when  he  exclaimed,  "  Mon 
Dieu  !  "  and  fell  dramatically  into  a  chair,  I  thought 
it  was  all  up  with  us,  and  dropping  my  knife 
and  fork,  I  rushed  to  the  top  of  the  house  in  the 
vain  hope  of  seeing  the  signal  of  an  approaching 
steamer,  which  should  bear  me  away  from  such  san 
guinary  scenes  to  my  quiet  home  in  San  Francisco. 
That  fellow,  however,  cried  "  wolf "  too  often,  and 
we  began  to  look  upon  him  as  a  blower,  and  at  last 
paid  little  attention  to  his  alarms.  We  felt  our 
selves  pretty  safe,  for  a  few  weeks  at  least,  and  so  re- 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  57 

solved  to  think  no  more  of  revolutions,  and  make 
the  best  of  our  stay.  We  listened  to  the  band 
"  discoursing  eloquent  music  "  in  the  plaza  at  night, 
and  indulged  our  love  of  natural  history  by  day, 
heedless  of  the  distracting  events  occurring  around 
us,  and  realizing  the  elegant  words  of  Thomson : 

"  The  fall  of  kings, 

The  rage  of  nations,  and  the  crush  of  states 
Move  not  the  man  who,  from  the  world  escaped, 
In  still  retreats  and  flowery  solitudes 
To  Nature's  voice  attends,  from  month  to  month 
And  day  to  day,  through  the  revolving  year  ; 
Admiring  sees  her  in  her  every  shape, 
Feels  all  the  sweet  emotions  at  his  heart, 
Takes  what  she  liberal  gives,  nor  thinks  of  more." 

The  country  immediately  surrounding  Mazatlan 
consists  of  a  series  of  broken  hills  at  some  little  dis 
tance, — varying  from  a  half  mile  to  two  miles — 
from  each  other,  and  crowned  to  their  summits  with 
a  dense  growth  of  shrubs  and  small  trees.  In  the 
valleys  between  these  hills  is  found  a  rich  alluvial 
loam,  highly  retentive  of  moisture,  capable  of  grow 
ing  crops  year  after  year  without  the  slightest  atom 
of  artificial  manure,  and  cultivated  in  the  most 
primitive  style  of  agriculture.  The  plows  used  are 
heavy  wooden  affairs,  pointed  at  the  end  of  the 
share,  which  scratch  rather  than  turn  the  soil,  and 
which  look  like  the  figures  we  find  upon  Egyptian 
monuments.  These  are  drawn  by  oxen,  which  are 
yoked  by  their  horns,  and  driven  by  a  sharp-pointed 


58  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

stick.  Very  little  land  is  under  cultivation  com 
pared  to  the  vast  extent  of  the  country;  and  in 
the  uncertain  condition  of  the  republic  and  the 
muddled  condition  of  all  titles  to  real  estate,  it  is 
not  likely  that,  until  a  material  change  shall  come 
about,  much  improvement  can  be  hoped  for.  The 
cultivated  patches  are  fenced  either  with  the  cactus 
or  with  upright  poles,  about  ten  feet  high,  placed 
a  few  inches  apart,  and  tied  together  with  the  ten 
drils  of  a  plant  allied  to  the  convolvulus,  which 
grows  abundantly  at  the  sea-side.  It  is  not  an  un 
usual  occurence  to  find  a  cultivated  clearing  hemmed 
round  on  all  sides  by  a  dense,  impenetrable  bush, 
which  forms  a  natural  fence  superior  to  all  others. 
Many,  in  fact  most,  of  the  plants  are  furnished 
with  long,  sharp,  and  cruel  thorns,  which  interfere 
terribly  with  one's  passage  among  them,  and  in  the 
most  ruthless  manner  tear  both  clothes  and  flesh. 
Mimosas  and  cassias,  with  lovely  flowers,  giving 
forth  an  exquisite  scent,  become  almost  repulsive  by 
their  savage  armature,  and  the  pain  we  suffer  as  we 
attempt  to  force  a  way  through  the  thick  foliage, 
robs  us  of  half  our  pleasure  as  we  contemplate  the 
wonders  of  vegetation  scattered  everywhere  around 
us.  For  there  is  much,  very  much,  to  charm  the 
senses  in  the  botanical  glories  of  this  enchanting 
land.  Though  we  were  in  the  winter  season,  when 
the  trees  and  shrubs  put  on  any  thing  but  their  gay 
est  livery,  we  found  on  every  hand  abundant  illus 
trations  of  the  singular  plants  which  grace  the  State 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  59 

of  Sinaloa.  Large,  straggling  trees,  without  the 
semblance  of  a  leaf,  would  be  crowned  at  their  tops 
with  crowded  bunches  of  flowers,  lilac,  pink,  purple, 
white,  red,  and  yellow  being  the  conspicuous  colors. 
The  growth  of  flowers  before  the  appearance  of 
the  leaves  is  one  of  the  botanical  peculiarities  most 
observable  among  some  classes  of  vegetation,  while 
grand  crimson  epiphytes  and  orchids,  parasitic  upon 
the.  limbs  of  trees,  cannot  fail  to  strike  the  eye  of 
even  the  most  unscientific  observer.  The  branches 
of  the  mesquite  trees  were  frequently  ornamented 
with  the  nests  of  the  so-called  "tailor-bird" — which 
is  really  a  species  of  oriole  (Icterus  pustulatus) — sin 
gularly  formed  structures,  nearly  a  yard  in  length, 
while  troops  of  gorgeous  humming-birds  of  several 
varieties  might  be  seen  piercing  the  flowers  with 
their  slender  tongues.  The  mesquite  (prosopis 
glandulosd)  produces  a  very  fine,  hard,  close-grained 
wood,  which  is  highly  valuable  for  cabinet  work  and 
inlaying,  and  could  easily  be  made  a  large  article  of 
export.  At  present  it  is  chiefly  employed  in  the 
making  of  charcoal,  that  produced  from  the  mes 
quite  commanding  the  highest  price  in  the  market. 

As  we  leave  Mazatlan  and  advance  nearer  to  the 
mountains,  the  timber  becomes  larger  and  of  greater 
variety,  and  many  exquisite  specimens  of  orna 
mental  and  sweet-scented  woods  were  shown  to  me 
as  products  of  the  more  hilly  districts.  The  species 
of  plants  belonging  to  the  genus  Solatium,  of  which 
the  tomato  and  potato  are  familiar  forms,  were  espe- 


60  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

daily  abundant,  and  a  lovely  jessamine,  with  clear 
white,  wax-like  flowers,  and  a  most  powerful  fra 
grance,  was  found  in  every  clump  of  bushes.  One  of 
the  india-rubber  trees  also  grows  abundantly  in 
some  of  the  forests  near  the  city  ;  its  dark  green, 
widely  spreading  foliage  being  always  a  conspicuous 
object.  We  saw  very  few  of  the  higher  animals;  a 
small  species  of  rabbit,  a  squirrel,  and  the  armadillo, 
being  the  only  varieties  which  came  under  our  notice. 
Birds,  however,  were  very  numerous,  both  in  species 
and  individuals,  and  I  have  seen  few  places  in  my 
life  which  would  better  reward  the  labors  of  an  or 
nithologist  than  the  country  around  Mazatlan.  It 
was  here  that  the  lamented  Grayson  made  his  ad 
mirable  collection,  from  which  were  drawn  those  ex 
quisite  plates  which  will  hand  his  name  down  to 
the  future  in  company  with  Wilson,  Audubbn,  and 
Gould.  Grayson's  remains  lie  peacefully  in  the 
cemetery  of  the  city;  and  as  I  stood  beside  his  grave, 
with  that  feeling  of  enthusiastic  admiration  which 
one  lover  of  nature  always  feels  for  his  more 
gifted  brother,  I  grieved  that  one  so  eminent 
should  be,  even  among  his  own  countrymen,  so 
little  known.  His  book  on  the  "  Birds  of  Mexico," 
as  yet  without  a  publisher,  is  an  exhaustive  treatise 
on  the  species  of  the  region  he  so  thoroughly  ex 
plored,  and  is  worthy  to  take  rank  among  the 
very  first  scientific  productions  of  the  century. 
The  Pioneer  Society  of  California  intend  to  honor 
the  memory  of  Grayson  by  one  day  conveying  his 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZATLAN.  6 1 

dust  to  San  Francisco.  I  hope  they  will  follow  up 
this  work  by  causing  the  publication  of  his  book,  as 
by  that  means  they  would  raise  to  his  memory  a 
monument  far  more  lasting  than  marble,  and  one 
that  will  endure  while  science  lives. 

In  my  favorite  pursuit  of  entomology  I  found 
much,  very  much,  to  interest  me,  and  supply  me 
with  food  for  thought  and  study  for  many  years  to 
come.  It  may  be  of  some  interest  for  me  to  state 
that  during  our  three  weeks'  stay  we  collected  up 
wards  of  five  thousand  specimens  of  natural  history 
objects,  many  of  which  may  possibly  turn  out  to  be 
new  to  science.  We  searched  the  woods  for  plants 
and  insects,  and  the  sea-shore  for  shells,  star-fishes, 
crabs,  and  the  many  other  curious  forms  of  marine 
life,  and  each  day  found  something  strange  to  us, 
on  which  to  feast  our  eyes  and  to  furnish  us  with 
materials  for  investigation  at  a  future  day. 

We  saw  but  few  noxious  creatures  of  any  kind, 
scorpions  being  certainly  the  most  abundant,  and 
attaining  a  considerable  size.  Snakes  are  very 
rare,  and  near  the  city  almost  entirely  unknown. 
Ants  are  numerous,  but  more  remarkable  for  their 
beauty  than  for  any  distinctive  properties.  The 
little  leaf-cutting  species  (fEcodoma  cephalotes),  so  at 
tractive  and  at  the  same  time  so  destructive  in 
Texas  and  Arizona,  are  also  remarkably  abundant  in 
Mazatlan,  and  nearly  every  day  we  came  across  one 
of  their  colonies.  These  industrious  insects  line 
their  nests  with  the  leaves  and  berries  of  trees,  and 


62  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

they  wander  off  an  immense  distance  from  their 
homes  in  search  of  their  leafy  stores.  Sometimes 
for  several  hundred  yards  they  may  be  traced 
along  a  beaten  path,  marching  in  double  file,  one 
bearing  portions  of  leaves  about  half  the  size  of  a 
postage  stamp,  and  the  other,  having  delivered  their 
burden  at  the  nest,  returning  to  the  tree  for  more. 
In  this  way  they  march  over  sticks  and  stones, 
rarely  turning  out  of  their  way  for  any  impediment, 
those  on  the  right-hand  track  never  in  any  way  in 
terfering  with  their  opposite  neighbors,  but  going  in 
the  most  methodical  way  about  their  business,  ap 
parently  thoroughly  intent  upon  their  work.  I  ac 
cidentally  trod  one  day  upon  one  of  these  columns, 
destroying,  of  course,  several  of  the  insects,  and 
disturbing  the  course  of  the  army.  The  ants  bear 
ing  leaves  still  continued  their  journey,  but  those 
with  empty  jaws  immediately  cleared  the  track  of 
their  dead  comrades,  and  then  went  on  as  if  noth 
ing  had  happened.  These  remarkable  insects  brought 
forcibly  to  mind  Shakespeare's  lines — 

"  Let  every  soldier  hew  him  down  a  bough, 
And  bear  't  before  him." 

And  so,  in  this  strange  city,  undisturbed  by  the 
noise  of  cars  and  fire-engines,  in  which  the  columns 
of  a  newspaper  were  to  us  unknown,  where  no  boot 
blacks  or  peddlers  ever  come,  where  the  rush  of 
business  forces  itself  not  upon  the  mind,  and  the 
wheels  of  life  roll  steadily  and  lazily  along,  our  time 


THREE    WEEKS  IN  MAZA  TLAN.  63 

passed  dreamily  away.  But  the  pleasures  of  the 
world  come  suddenly  to  an  end.  The  last  butterfly 
was  caught,  the  last  strange  plant  gathered,  the  last 
shell  carefully  cleaned  and  put  away,  when  the  red 
flag  on  the  signal  staff  announced  the  coming  of  a 
steamer,  and  told  us  that  the  hour  of  our  .departure 
had  come.  That  evening,  with 

"  A  feeling  of  sadness  and  longing 
That  is  not  akin  to  pain," 

we  bade  adieu  to  Mazatlan  in  the  darkness,  and  were 
soon  once  more  upon  "  the  deep  blue  sea,"  thread 
ing  our  mysterious  way  over  its  ever-restless,  ever- 
solemn  depths. 

NOTE. — I  must  ask  my  readers  to  remember 
that  eight  years  have  elapsed  since  the  foregoing 
paper  was  written,  and  that  during  that  time  many 
and  important  changes  have  occurred  in  the  history 
and  manners  of  Mazatlan.  An  excellent  hotel  is 
now  in  course  of  erection  ;  the  abuses  in  the  custom 
house  and  pilot  department  have  been  greatly  miti 
gated  ;  the  tyrant  Lozada  has  passed  to  his  ac 
count  ;  the  telegraph  is  in  admirable  working  order ; 
and  the  fruitful  valleys  of  Sinaloa  will  soon  be  pene 
trated  by  that  grand  pioneer  of  civilization,  the  rail 
road.  With  such  changes  in  the  social  condition  of 
a  country  come  better  impulses  in  the  minds  of  its 
people,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  many  of  the  ob- 


64  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

stacles  to  the  progress  of  Mexico  which  recently  ex 
isted  are  swept  away,  and  that  she  may  soon  take 
the  place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth  to  which 
the  possession  of  a  glorious  country,  a  fertile  soil, 
and  an  almost  perfect  climate,  eminently  entitle 
her. 


IRON 

AND   ITS   RELATION  TO   CIVILIZATION. 

An  address  delivered  at  the  annual  opening  of  the 
Mechanics"  Fair,  San  Francisco,  August  8,  1876. 

THE  field  of  thought  covered  by  the  title  I  have 
chosen  for  my  address  is  a  mighty  one,  far  too  vast 
for  the  contemplation  of  an  hour,  and  only  on  the 
present  occasion  to  be  regarded  as  the  opening  of 
the  volume,  leaving  the  wealth  of  its  pages  un 
touched  and  unexplored.  It  is  one  of  the  contra 
dictions  of  our  imperfect  nature,  that  those  objects 
which  are  always  present  with  us,  and  which  be 
come  as  it  were  a  part  of  our  every-day  existence, 
receive  too  little  consideration  at  our  hands.  We 
take  them  as  our  right,  and  utterly  unconscious  of 
that  spirit  of  gratitude  which  should  fill  our  souls 
at  the  knowledge  of  the  countless  blessings  which 
are  ours  unsought,  we  pause  not  to  consider  whence 
they  come,  how  important  they  may  be  to  our  daily 
wants,  or  how  great  the  loss  we  should  sustain  by 
their  withdrawal  from  our  possession.  And  iron  is 
one  of  these,  iron — that  common  metal  with  which 
we  are  all  so  familiar,  with  the  use  of  which  in  some 
form  or  other  we  hourly  come  in  contact,  of  whose 

65 


66  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

chemical  constituents  we  now  know  much,  whose 
formation  and  geologic  conditions  have  been  made 
clear,  by  the  light  of  modern  science,  but  whose  dis 
covery  by  man,  and  his  first  application  of  the 
metal  to  the  uses  of  his  life,  are  all  but  a  sealed 
book  to  us,  the  smallest  streaks  of  light  alone  break 
ing  in  upon  us  to  relieve  the  darkness  of  our  search. 
Far  off  in  that  remote  period  in  which  history  is 
utterly  lost,  and  even  tradition  becomes  merged  in 
the  gloom  of  obscurity,  we  may  imagine  some  dusky 
savage  starting  with  delight  and  wonder  as  he  views 
the  sparkling  crystals  of  the  heavy  lump  of  stone 
beneath  his  feet,  of  the  composition  of  which  he 
knew  nothing,  but  which  in  after  ages  was  destined 
to  be  the  greatest  "  boon  to  mortals  given,"  the 
grand  handmaid  of  progressive  civilization,  and  the 
all  but  indestructible  basis  of  the  noblest  works 
which  ever  emanated  from  the  genius  of  mankind. 
How  the  first  crude  worker  in  iron  conceived  the 
idea  of  reducing  that  coarse,  heavy  mass  into  a  mal 
leable  form,  rendering  it  plastic  and  obedient  to  the 
skill  of  his  hands,  we  know  not  ;  here  the  curtain 
falls  upon  our  ken,  and  imagination,  unaided  by 
positive  knowledge,  can  alone  assist  us.  Owing, 
however,  to  the  difficulty  which  exists  in  reducing 
it  from  its  ores,  its  extreme  hardness,  and  the  want 
of  discrimination  as  to  which  variety  of  ore  would 
be  the  most  productive,  it  would  appear  that  iron 
was  by  no  means  the  first  metal  whose  use  was 
learned  by  our  progenitors ;  doubtless  yielding  in 


IRON.  67 

this  respect,  to  lead,  silver,  and  copper.  But  still 
in  this  statement,  we  are  wandering  into  the  realms 
of  speculation.  The  condition  of  man  in  his  earlier 
stages  of  existence  was  probably  as  different  in  all 
its  general  characters  as  our  own  may  be  from  that 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Jupiter  or  Saturn,  and  the  only 
certainty  we  can  lean  upon  is  that,  the  metal  once 
found,  its  uses  gradually  became  known  ;  the  first 
purposes  to  which  it  was  applied  being,  prob 
ably,  the  fabrication  of  weapons  of  the  chase  or 
of  war.  These  far-off  times  are  shrouded  in  mys 
tery,  but  as  we  stand  awhile  upon  the  mountains  of 
thought,  far  removed  from  the  petty  vexations  of 
life,  and  contemplate  the  stir  which  everywhere 
around  us  has  proceeded  with  the  most  ceaseless  ac 
tivity,  we  see  written  as  the  eternal  law  of  Provi 
dence,  a  progressive  change  from  a  lower  to  a  higher 
form  of  existence,  and  recognize  in  every  depart 
ment  of  our  being,  examples  of  this  progress  work 
ing  ever  upward  and  onward  to  a  grand  purpose — a 
purpose  as  yet  unfulfilled,  but  expanding  day  by  day, 
and  hour  by  hour,  nearer  and  ever  nearer  to  that 
perfection  which,  though  never  absolutely  reached, 
is,  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  one  day  com 
pelled  to  burst  into  the  open  sky  of  peace,  of  free 
dom,  and  of  love.  And  so,  as  the  geologist,  by  the 
aid  of  physical  facts,  can  trace  the  growth  of  worlds 
and  assign  to  each  created  thing  his  place  and  pe 
riod  in  the  vast  scale  of  creation,  from  the  azoic 
age,  devoid,  as  the  name  implies,  of  the  smallest 


68  A  MINGLED    YARN. 

trace  of  life,  up  to  that  marvellous  epoch  when  the 
earth  echoed  with  the  tread  of  man, — so  can  we 
understand  how  that  mighty  being 

"  By  slow  degrees,  by  more  and  more," 

improved  in  growth  and  culture,  and  gave  evidence, 
even  in  those  barbaric  days,  of  a  civilization  yet  to 
be,  a  civilization  still  unseen,  but  as  perfect  and  as 
certain  as  is  the  form  of  the  flower  within  the  un 
opened  beauty  of  the  bud.  And  as  he  grew  stronger 
and  stronger,  gaining  hourly  in  intelligence,  and  in 
each  century  of  his  existence  removing  himself  fur 
ther  and  further  from  the  brute  condition  of  his 
primal  form,  fulfilling  that  eternal  law  of  outgrowth 
which  shines  with  untiring  brilliancy  upon  all  the 
handiworks  of  God,  his  wants  necessarily  became 
more  and  more  numerous,  the  products  of  earth 
were  searched  and  tested  to  satisfy  his  desires,  and 
every  object  which  could  by  any  means  aid  those 
wants,  was  greedily  seized,  and  forced  into  the  army 
of  their  supply.  Among  these  iron  undoubtedly 
held  a  foremost  place ;  and  though  we  can  assign  no 
positive  period  as  the  date  of  its  first  manufacture, 
the  researches  of  Sir  John  Lubbock  and  others  have 
marked  its  existence  among  the  lacustrine  dwellings 
of  Switzerland,  away  back  in  those  prehistoric  times 
when  man  had  no  records,  and  has  left  no  trace  of 
his  existence  beyond  the  buried  relics  of  his  prim 
itive  homes ;  while,  descending  the  stream  of  more 
approximate  history,  we  find  that  Homer,  who  is 


IRON.  69 

supposed  to  have  lived  in  the  ninth  century  before 
Christ,  is  accredited  in  Pope's  translation  of  the 
Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  with  many  allusions  to  this 
metal.  In  the  latter  poem,  Minerva,  under  the 
guise  of  "  Mentes,  the  monarch  of  the  Taphian 
land,"  while  explaining  to  Telemachus  the  reason 
of  her  visit  to  Ithaca,  says : 

"  Freighted  with  iron  from  my  native  land, 
I  steer  my  voyage  to  the  Brutian  strand, 
To  gain  by  commerce  from  the  labor'd  mass 
A  just  proportion  of  refulgent  brass." 

These  facts  would  tend  to  show  a  greater  antiquity 
for  the  use  of  iron  than  has  usually  been  assigned  to 
it ;  and  explorations  made  of  late  years  in  the 
great  Pyramid  of  Cheops,  have  brought  to  light 
some  wedges  of  iron  firmly  embedded  in  the  crevices 
of  the  enormous  blocks  of  stone  of  which  those 
structures  are  composed,  which  could  not  have  been 
manufactured,  according  to  the  best  Egyptian 
scholars,  subsequent  to  3000  B.C.,  while  in  the  buried 
cities  of  Asia  and  America,  iron  implements  of  vari 
ous  kinds,  and  ornamental  designs  in  the  same 
metal,  have  been  frequently  discovered.  But  it  is 
from  that  grand  storehouse  of  knowledge  which, 
however  degenerated  to-day,  has  been  the  birth 
place  of  many  of  our  most  treasured  discoveries, 
from  the 

"  Rich  Orient,  studded  with  her  gems," 

that  the  first  historical  records  of  the  uses  of  iron 


/O  A  MINGLED    YARN. 

came  to  us,  carrying  us  down  the  mighty  river  of 
time  to  the  more  familiar  period  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  dynasties,  and  it  is  from  about  three  hun 
dred  years  previous  to  the  Christian  era  that  our 
really  reliable  information  comes  ;  the  Romans,  then 
the  masters  of  the  world,  being  probably  the  first  to 
perceive  the  malleable  properties  of  the  metal,  and 
to  apply  it  to  many  uses  before  unknown.  It  is  cer 
tain  that  the  rich  mines  of  the  Island  of  Elba  were 
worked  by  them  upwards  of  2,500  years  ago,  while  we 
learn  from  the  Commentaries  of  Caesar  that  on  his  in 
vasion  of  Britain  the  spears  and  lances  of  the  inhabi 
tants  of  that  island  were  either  wholly  made  or  tipped 
with  iron,  and  during  the  occupation  of  Britain  by 
Julius  and  his  successors,  the  rich  mines  of  the  Forest 
of  Dean,  in  Gloucestershire,  were  constantly  worked 
by  the  Romans,  numberless  cinder  heaps  in  that 
grand  old  domain  still  remaining  to  mark  the  rude 
efforts  of  the  conquerors  to  extract  the  coveted 
metal  from  its  rebellious  ore.  Over  many  of  these 
cinder  heaps,  now  covered  with  rich  soil,  the  product 
of  disintegration  and  decomposition  in  the  past  cent 
uries,  I  have  often  wandered  as  a  boy,  and  gathered 
lovely  flowers  which  grew  up  in  the  crevices  of  these 
singular  remains ;  the  cinder  heaps  of  Dean  Forest 
being  spots  well  known  by  every  naturalist  who  has 
visited  that  region,  in  winter  producing  many  rare  and 
curious  fungi,  and  in  summer  equally  rare  flowering 
plants,  which,  in  their  turn,  were  visited  by  insects 
elsewhere  but  seldom  seen.  The  furnaces  used  by 


IRON.  7\ 

these  people  in  smelting  the  ore  are,  in  many  cases, 
still  in  existence,  being  always  erected  on  the  top 
of  some  eminence,  so  as  to  obtain  the  greatest  force 
of  the  wind.  Charcoal  was  used  for  the  fires,  and  it 
is  not  difficult  in  some  places  to  trace  the  remains 
of  charcoal  pits — nay,  even  of  the  very  trees  cut 
down  for  the  purpose  of  being  converted  into  fuel. 
"  The  processes  of  extracting  the  iron  were,  however, 
naturally  very  rude  and  imperfect,  and  left  so  much 
iron  in  the  cinders,  that  several  of  the  heaps  in  the 
Forest  of  Dean  furnished  the  chief  supply  of  ore  to 
twenty  furnaces  for  upwards  of  two  hundred  years." 
From  the  time  of  the  Romans  the  workmanship 
in  iron  gradually  improved,  and  its  use  spread  over 
Europe  and  Asia ;  large  deposits  of  ore  being  dis 
covered  in  Sweden,  Russia,  Siberia,  Persia,  Italy, 
France,  and  England.  The  last-named  country 
now  produces  the  bulk  of  this  metal ;  one  bed,  in  the 
northeast  of  Yorkshire,  yielding  for  several  years 
no  less  than  the  enormous  amount  of  four  hundred 
thousand  tons  per  annum,  while  some  mines  in  the 
county  of  Cumberland  gave,  in  1861,  the  almost 
incredible  result  of  one  million  tons.  Next  to  Eng 
land  in  point  of  production  stands  the  United 
States,  though  very  much  that  is  used  is  still 
imported  from  Europe.  There  is  good  reason  to 
hope  that,  in  a  few  years,  by  increased  facilities,  and 
by  the  exercise  of  enterprise  and  capital,  the  iron 
mines  of  North  America  will  take  the  lead  of  all 
the  world,  and  in  their  turn  supply  much  of  the  de- 


72  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

mand  from  the  older  countries  across  the  Atlantic. 
The  early  settlers  of  this  country,  though  soon  be 
coming  acquainted  with  the  existence  of  metal 
liferous  deposits,  could  not  make  them  a  special 
object  of  their  search,  as  the  beds  of  ore  with  which 
they  were  enabled  to  become  acquainted  were,  for 
the  most  part,  far  removed,  in  those  days,  from  their 
settlements,  and  were  known  chiefly  to  the  Indians, 
who  manifested  a  hostile  feeling  to  the  invaders  of 
their  soil.  It  was  not  until  the  year  1702  that  a 
furnace  for  the  purpose  of  smelting  iron  was  erected 
in  Plymouth  County,  Mass.,  being  followed  a 
few  years  later  by  such  other  enterprises  in  Rhode 
Island  and  Maryland.  The  pig-iron  thus  produced 
was  chiefly  exported  to  Great  Britain,  where  it  was 
admitted  free  of  duty,  manufactured  articles  of  iron 
and  steel  being  returned  in  its  stead.  In  1771,  the 
shipment  of  iron  from  this  country  to  Great 
Britain  amounted  to  7,525  tons,  the  exportation 
ceasing  with  the  War  of  Independence,  one  hundred 
years  ago. 

I  am  not  here  to-day  to  speak  to  you  of  your  mar 
vellous  advances  in  every  department  of  economy 
which  tends  to  the  permanence  of  your  social  prog 
ress,  since  that  eventful  period  of  American  history 
in  which  an  oppressed  people  rose  to  vindicate 
their  rights,  and  to  trample  beneath  their  liberated 
feet  the  shackles  which  had  so  long  bound  them ; 
but  I  may  respectfully,  as  an  Englishman,  ask  you, 
natives  of  this  vast  and  ever-advancing  country,  to 


IRON.  73 

believe  that,  in  common  with  myself,  there  are 
thousands  in  your  mother-land  to-day  who  hail  your 
"Declaration  of  Independence"  as  the  dawn  of  a 
new  era  of  freedom,  not  for  yourselves  alone,  but 
for  all  who  have  felt  the  heel  of  the  tyrant,  and  who 
crown  your  glorious  work,  in  this  centennial  year, 
with  the  thanksgiving  and  the  blessing  which  ever 
spring  from  the  depths  of  warm  and  sympathizing 
souls.  And  it  is  good  to  remark  in  this  connection, 
that  that  very  Declaration  had  in  view,  in  one  of  its 
clauses,  the  grievances  which  the  early  settlers  ex 
perienced  in  the  harsh  measures  adopted  by  Great 
Britain  to  prohibit  the  erection  of  furnaces  for  the 
smelting  of  metals,  the  mother-country  having  passed 
an  act  denouncing  all  such  erections  as  "  nuisances," 
fearing  that  the  growth  of  such  manufactories  would 
tend  to  lessen  her  hold  upon  her  transatlantic  terri 
tory.  But,  happily,  this  overbearing  tyranny  is  at  an 
end,  and  by  a  tremendous  bound,  rather  than  by 
gradual  growth,  the  Union  has  become  the  second 
in  importance  as  an  iron-producing  country,  and  this 
in  the  short  space  of  a  single  century. 

I  find  it  stated  in  Gray's  "  Physical  Atlas,"  that 
"  after  the  close  of  the  war,  the  chief  supplies  were 
again  furnished  by  Great  Britain,  from  the  lack  in 
the  United  States  of  the  capital  necessary  for  the 
successful  prosecution  of  the  business.  The  natural 
advantages  possessed  by  Great  Britain,  powerfully 
co-operated  with  her  legislation,  and  as  her  rich  de 
posits  of  iron  and  coal  were  in  close  juxtaposition 


74  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

and  in  localities  not  far  removed  from  the  coast,  the 
iron  interest  became  so  fully  established  that  no 
nation  accessible  to  her  ships  could  successfully 
engage  in  the  same  pursuit,  until  by  following  her 
example  its  own  mines  and  resources  could  be  fully 
developed."  In  1810  the  amount  of  pig-iron  pro 
duced  in  the  United  States  was  54,000  tons  ;  in  1828 
this  had  increased  to  130,000  tons;  in  1842,  to  240,- 
ooo  tons;  and  in  1876,  to  the  enormous  result  of 
2,052,881  tons — this  vast  quantity  being  the  product 
of  3,210,918  tons  of  iron  ore.  It  may  be  well  for 
me  to  add  that  fully  one  half  of  this  was  mined  in 
the  State  of  Pennsylvania  alone ;  though  large  de 
posits  of  ore  exist  in  Ohio,  New  York,  Missouri,  and 
Michigan — in  fact,  there  are  no  States  in  the  Union, 
with  the  exception  of  Florida,  Texas,  and  Louisiana, 
which  do  not  contribute  their  quota  to  this  priceless 
branch  of  industry. 

Year  by  year  the  yield  of  iron  in  the  United 
States,  as  well  as  in  Europe,  is  constantly  increasing, 
and  from  the  most  reliable  statistics  at  my  com 
mand,  the  total  product  of  the  year  1874  amounted, 
in  round  numbers,  to  about  nine  millions  of  tons,  the 
value  of  which,  taking  the  average  price  of  pig-iron 
at  that  time,  was  not  less  than  two  hundred  millions 
of  dollars.  The  mind  almost  staggers  under  these 
tremendous  figures,  and  did  we  not  know  how  uni 
versal  was  the  use  of  this  metal,  we  should  hesitate 
to  accept  such  statements.  But  the  purposes  to 
which  it  is  applied  in  our  social  economy  are  all  but 


IRON.  75 

infinite,  and  as  civilization  advances  with  her  giant 
strides,  "  iron,  more  iron,"  is  the  cry  forever  upon 
her  lips,  as  the  grandest  need  of  her  progressive  path. 

It  is  away  from  my  present  purpose  to  talk  to  you 
of  the  chemical  composition  of  iron.  I  would  not 
if  I  could,  and  I  could  not  if  I  would  ;  but  it  may 
be  well  for  me  to  state  that  iron  is  never  in  a  state 
of  nature  found  absolutely  pure,  but  exists  in  com 
bination  with  other  substances,  forming  oxides,  car 
bonates,  phosphates,  silicates,  and  iodides  of  iron, 
which  are  again  subdivided  into  various  specific  me 
tallic  forms  and  compounds.  Probably  the  richest 
of  all  known  ores,  containing,  I  believe,  nearly 
seventy-three  per  cent,  of  pure  iron,  is  that  techni 
cally  known  as  the  black  oxide,  a  variety  for  which 
Sweden  is  especially  famous,  the  metal  produced 
from  it  being  generally  esteemed  the  best  in  Europe. 
The  mines  of  Dannemora,  in  Sweden,  have  been  con 
stantly  worked  since  the  i$th  century,  while  large 
deposits  of  this  variety  (known  also  as  magnetic  iron) 
are  found  in  the  Ural  Mountains  of  Russia,  and  in 
this  country,  in  Canada,  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania, 
and  Virginia.  "The  rock  formations  in  which  mag 
netic  iron  ore  occurs  contain  no  coal,  hence  it  is 
almost  always  smelted  with  wood-charcoal,  which, 
as  it  contains  no  sulphur,  is  one  great  cause  of  the 
superiority  of  the  iron  produced  from  it." 

With  regard  to  the  process  of  smelting,  I  find  on  the 
authority  of  "Chambers's  Cyclopedia,"  that  "char 
coal  was  constantly  used  for  this  purpose  up  to  1618, 


76  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

when  Lord  Dudley  introduced  the  use  of  coal;  but 
the  iron-masters  being  unanimously  opposed  to  the 
change,  Dudley's  improvement  died  with  him,  and 
was  not  re-introduced  until  1713,  when  Abraham 
Derby  employed  it  in  his  furnaces  at  Coalbrook 
Dale.  About  1750  the  introduction  of  coke  gave 
renewed  vigor  to  the  iron  trade,  and  then  followed 
in  rapid  succession  those  improvements  in  its  manu 
facture  which  give  to  the  history  of  iron  all  the 
interest  of  a  romance.  The  steam-engine  of  Watt ; 
the  process  of  puddling  and  rolling  invented  by 
Henry  Cort,  in  1784;  the  employment  of  the  hot 
blast  by  Neilson,  of  Glasgow,  in  1830;  and  the  well- 
known  Bessemer  process  of  later  days,  were  grand 
discoveries  in  this  branch  of  industry,  and  worthy 
pioneers  of  the  more  extended  knowledge  of  the 
reduction  and  utilization  of  the  metal  which,  year 
by  year,  is  made  to  dawn  upon  the  horizon  of  me 
chanical  science. 

Indeed,  the  energy  and  intelligence  bestowed 
upon  the  subject  of  iron  throughout  the  world,  are 
in  themselves  sufficient  to  prove  its  extreme  impor 
tance  to  the  race,  did  not  its  multifarious  uses  come 
hourly  beneath  our  notice,  and  testify  to  its  ex 
istence  as  a  necessity  of  our  being.  Who  can  over 
value  its  worth  ?  Who  can  attempt  to  sum  up  the 
comforts  we  derive,  the  blessings  we  enjoy,  from  a 
knowledge  of  its  uses  and  its  power?  The  miles 
on  miles  of  railways  which  stretch  themselves  like 
a  net-work  over  the  surface  of  our  planet,  binding 


IRON.  77 

continents  together  in  a  bond  of  fellowship,  and 
linking  distant  nations  hand  to  hand,  would  have  no 
existence,  but  for  iron  ;  the  pumps  which  draw  the 
sparkling  water  for  us  from  the  depths  of  the  earth ; 
the  pipes  which  convey  it  from  distant  reservoirs  for 
our  cities'  use  ;  the  fleets  of  white-winged  ships  which 
stud  our  seas,  like  messengers  of  love,  carrying 
blessings  from  one  land  to  another,  exchanging  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  and  cementing  the  whole  world 
in  one  compact  and  universal  brotherhood ;  the 
grand  and  complicated  machines  which  fill  your 
courts  to-day,  and  attract  the  attention  and  move 
the  wonder  even  of  mechanical  minds ;  the  lofty 
structures  which  rise  around  us  on  every  hand,  sub 
limely  reaching  up  to  heaven  as  if  in  mute  but 
earnest  praise  to  the  grand  creative  Mind  whence  all 
has  sprung,  attest  in  trumpet  tones  the  precious 
boon  which  iron  has  become  to  man — the  most  im 
portant  want  and  blessing  of  his  race. 

Turn  where  we  will,  its  worth  is  seen ;  examine 
where  we  may,  its  power  and  its  uses  are  experienced 
and  known.  There  is  no  position  in  life,  no  rank  in 
society,  which  is  independent  of  its  assistance.  Not 
only  in  those  mighty  works,  which  assert  man's  claim 
to  the  gratitude  of  coming  ages,  but  in  the  minor 
details  of  our  daily  life,  in  all  the  countless  relations 
which  go  to  make  up  the  sum  and  comfort  of  our 
being,  the  value  of  this  marvellous  product  is  en 
forced  upon  our  attention. 

The  surgeon's  instruments,  and  the  bridge  which 


7  8  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

spans  a  cataract;  the  dainty  needle,  and  the  hammer 
which  can  crush  a  ton;  the  scythe  of  the  mower,  and 
the  lever  which  can  stir  a  palace  ;  the  fearful  war- 
guns  before  whose  fire  whole  armies  sink  as  puppets, 
and  the  wire  which  cages  the  imprisoned  bird;  the 
light-houses  which  protect  our  coasts,  throwing  their 
beacon  lights  far  across  the  deep  as  the  wanderer's 
warning  and  his  sign,  and  the  pen  which  writes  our 
messages  of  love  ;  the  delicate  mechanism  which 
guides  the  movements  of  our  watch,  and  the  stupen 
dous  columns  which  lift  themselves  far  up  into  the 
eternal  and  bare  their  brows  to  God, — these  are  but 
a  few  of  the  varied  purposes  to  which  it  is  applied, 
and  for  which  it  claims  our  recognition  and  regard ! 
And  let  us  ever  remember,  that  for  it  no  substitute 
can  be  offered — no  metal  known  to  us  can  take  the 
place  of  iron  in  its  controlling  and  multifarious  uses. 
For  gold,  silver,  copper,  lead,  or  tin,  something  may 
be  found  to  supply  the  place  ;  for  iron,  nothing  ! 

It  is  terrible  to  contemplate  the  utter  blank  which 
the  world  would  become,  if  it  were  possible  that  by 
some  sudden  convulsion  it  could  be  withdrawn 
from  us  and  banished  from  the  earth.  As  if  by  the 
touch  of  a  magician's  wand,  a  desolation,  vast  and 
awful,  to  which  the  most  fearful  earthquake  that 
ever  devastated  the  world  would  be  but  as  the 
falling  of  a  house  of  cards,  the  plaything  of  a  child, 
would  come  upon  us, — a  desolation  so  stupendous 
and  so  crushing  in  its  immensity  as  to  suggest  the 
day  foretold  by  the  prophet,  "  a  day  of  darkness 


IRON.  79 

and  of  gloominess,  a  day  of  clouds  and  of  thick 
darkness," — a  desolation  which  would  send  our  planet 
with  its  thirteen  hundred  millions  of  souls  drifting 
backward  and  ever  backward  to  her  primitive  con 
dition,  the  intelligence  of  her  inhabitants  fading 
with  the  lapse  of  the  ages,  and  her  surface  becoming 
gradually  unfitted  for  the  abode  of  man  ! 

The  mind  can  hardly  realize  the  change — the 
paralysis  of  all  endeavor,  the  destruction  of  the 
mighty  aids  to  labor,  the  uprooting  of  all  social  and 
business  institutions,  and  the  total  annihilation  of 
commerce  in  all  its  forms  which  would  follow  such  a 
vast  and  overwhelming  catastrophe  !  Our  grandest 
edifices  would  crumble  into  dust  ;  our  noble 
ships  would  become  shapeless  masses,  and  go 
down  rotting  to  the  sea's  extremest  depths ;  our 
telegraph  would  no  longer  waft  its  messages  with 
lightning  speed,  putting  "  its  girdle  round  about  the 
earth";  our  mighty  engines,  which  now  with  almost 
a  living  voice  proclaim  themselves  the  emperors  of 
force  and  power,  which  carry  us  with  such  rapidity 
from  place  to  place,  making  the  once  unknown  cor 
ners  of  the  earth  but  pleasant  visiting  spots  for  a 
summer  tour,  would  pass  forever  from  our  sight  ; 
our  printing-press  would  cease  its  holy  labor  ;  our 
fields  would  become  choked  with  weeds,  and  the 
furrows  of  the  plough  be  known  no  more  !  The 
civilization  of  which  we  now  so*  worthily  boast 
would  have  run  its  course,  would  lapse  into  the 
barbarism  out  of  which  it  sprung,  and 


80  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

"  Like  an  unsubstantial  pageant  faded, 
Leave  not  a  rack  behind  !  " 

This  may  be  a  melancholy  picture,  but  it  by  no 
means  exaggerates  the  endless  evils  we  should  suffer, 
could  the  iron  of  the  earth  be  at  once  eliminated 
from  its  products;  and  the  contemplation  of  such  an 
appalling  wreck  should  at  least  help  us  to  be  grate 
ful  for  so  powerful  an  adjunct  to  our  social  wants. 
And  looking  down  the  vista  of  the  coming  years,  do 
we  not,  with  our  more  interior  vision,  see  the  pos 
sibility  of  a  still  wider  application  to  the  cravings  of 
a  succeeding  race,  than  any  we  have  known  ?  Does 
not  the  daily  growth  of  the  arts  and  sciences  which 
occupy  man's  attention  to-day,  and  the  cultivation 
of  which  adds  hourly  to  his  refinement,  and  brings 
his  nature  nearer  and  ever  nearer  to  the  Divine, — 
does  not  this  suggest  the  existence  of  uses  for  this 
metal  even  greater  than  those  we  already  know — 
uses  as  yet  but  dimly  seen,  even  by  the  speculative 
and  far-seeing  mind  ?  Perhaps  we  are  but  yet  upon 
the  threshold  of  the  temple,  and  the  secrets  beyond 
the  vestibule  may  yet  be  hidden  from  our  gaze.  In 
the  more  refined  arts  of  life — in  engraving,  in  pho 
tography,  in  the  polishing  of  various  substances,  in 
the  cutting  of  glass,  and  in  the  structure  of  orna 
mental  designs,  our  knowledge  may  be  fairly  said  to 
be  in  its  infancy ;  and  turning  from  the  peaceful 
and  purifying  arts  of  life,  to  considerations  of  an 
opposite  character,  do  we  not  with  a  thought  per 
ceive  how,  of  late  years,  at  least  within  our  present 


IRON.  8 1 

century,  iron  has  been  employed  by  man  to  meet 
one  of  the  exigencies  of  his  nature,  in  the  construc 
tion  of  those  vast  and  fearful  implements  of  war, 
which  are  among  the  most  striking  features  of  our 
age  ?  The  iron-clad  ships  which,  in  their  present 
and  more  perfected  form,  had  their  origin  in 
America,  and  which  to  the  number  of  nearly  four 
hundred,  with  the  aggregate  equipment  of  over  three 
thousand  guns,  are  now  employed  by  all  the  warlike 
nations  of  the  globe,  are  due  to  the  existence  of 
iron.  The  perfect  immunity  of  these  vessels  to  the 
discharges  of  the  cannon  in  vogue  among  our  fathers, 
suggested  heavier  artillery,  and  more  powerful  guns 
were  needed  to  penetrate  the  armor  of  this  mighty 
fleet.  Those  of  modern  times  have  attained  such 
sizes  and  such  power,  that  we  stand  aghast  at  the 
marvellous  amount  of  ingenuity  and  constructive 
genius  which  men  have  devoted  to  the  destruction 
of  each  other,  and  wonder  if  that  glorious  period 
spoken  of  by  Tennyson — 

"  When  the  war  drum  throbbed  no  longer,  and  the  battle  flags  were 

furled 
In  the  Parliament  of  man,  the  Federation  of  the  world  " — 

lives  but  in  a  poet's  dream.  The  guns  made  by 
Krupp,  of  Prussia,  who  was  one  of  the  pioneers  of 
this  branch  of  industry,  challenge  our  admiration,  at 
the  same  time  that  they  excite  our  awe. 

One  of  these  stupendous  weapons,  made  for  the 
Russian  government  in  1868,  had  a  total  weight  of 
fifty  tons,  the  diameter  of  the  bore  being  fourteen 


82  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

inches,  and  the  length  of  the  barrel  two  hundred 
and  ten  inches.  This  gun  would  carry  a  shot  weigh 
ing  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  twelve  pounds, 
the  propulsion  of  which  would  require  a  charge  of 
not  less  than  one  hundred  and  fifteen  pounds  of 
powder.  The  price  of  this  gun,  with  its  carriage 
and  turn-table  complete,  amounted  to  one  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  our  currency;  the  time 
occupied  in  its  construction  being  sixteen  months  of 
unremitted  labor.  How  terrible  the  expenditure  of 
all  this  skill  and  power  for  the  one  purpose  of  de 
struction  !  But  as  in  the  physical  world  we  see  that 
earthquakes,  hurricanes,  and  volcanoes  subserve  a 
useful  purpose,  and  prepare  the  earth  for  the  culture 
and  the  use  of  man,  so  is  it  held  by  many  thinking 
and  philanthropic  minds,  that  with  the  improvement 
of  our  weapons  of  war,  the  era  of  peace  will  the  more 
speedily  come, — that  era  of  which  Elihu  Burritt,  the 
learned  worker  in  iron,  who  was  "  transplanted  from 
the  anvil  to  the  editor's  chair,  by  the  genius  of 
machinery,"  triumphantly  says  :  "  War  shall  die, 
and  all  things  that  love  the  face  of  man  and  the 
face  of  nature,  that  love  to  look  up  into  the  pure 
and  peaceful  sky,  that  commune  with  the  silent 
harmonies  of  the  great  creation,  and  listen  to  the 
music  of  unreasoning  things, — all  these  shall  fill  the 
heavens  with  one  grand  jubilate  that  the  great  can 
nibal  is  dead  !  "  But  however  this  may  be,  certain 
is  it,  that  through  these  mighty  engines  of  destruc 
tion  the  strife  of  nations  will  no  longer  be  decided 


IRON.  83 

in  close  contact  upon  the  blood-stained  deep,  or  on 
the  crowded  battle  field.  "  The  sword  may  indeed  be 
turned  into  a  ploughshare  and  the  spear  into  a  prun- 
ing-hook,"  but  the  horrors  of  war  will  be  rendered 
more  shortlived,  even  if  more  devastating  and  more 
decisive,  in  their  operation ;  and  while  we  sorrow 
over  the  deadly  feuds  which  agonize  our  race,  let 
us  remember  that  the  destinies  of  nations  are  in  wiser 
hands  than  ours,  and  that  we,  in  our  impotence,  can 
but  look  on,  wonder,  and  revere. 

I  feel  that  I  have  already  detained  you  too  long, 
but  I  must,  before  I  conclude,  say  a  few  words  as  to 
the  existence  upon  our  own  coast  of  the  metal  we 
have  had  under  consideration,  and  the  probability 
of  its  one  day  becoming  an  object  for  the  employ 
ment  of  capital.  It  may  be  already  known  to  you 
that  in  several  portions  of  this  State,  deposits  of 
iron  ore  exist,  which  need  only  increased  enterprise 
to  render  them  of  immense  value  and  importance. 
In  Sierra  Valley,  near  Marysville,  and  near  Colfax, 
large  beds  of  ironstone  have  been  discovered,  and 
when  it  is  known  that,  according  to  a  statement 
recently  made  in  the  Mining  and  Scientific  Press  of 
this  city,  "  the  quantity  of  iron  annually  used  upon 
this  coast  cannot  be  less  than  60,000  tons,  worth  in 
the  rough,  about  $3,000,000,  and  in  a  manufactured 
state  not  less  than  $10,000,000,"  it  must  be  allowed 
that  the  development  of  the  iron  resources  of  Cali 
fornia  and  the  neighboring  States  is  at  least  worthy 
of  consideration.  In  Oregon,  some  excellent  mines, 


84  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

producing  ore  of  the  very  finest  quality,  have  long 
been  profitably  worked ;  and  in  British  Columbia,  a 
whole  island  in  the  Gulf  of  Georgia,  known  as 
Texada  Island,  waits  but  the  energy  of  a  few  deter 
mined  men  to  give  to  the  world  iron  ore  sufficient  to 
keep  employed  hundreds  of  laborers  for  many  dec 
ades  to  come. 

The  city  of  San  Francisco  alone  has  within  its 
limits  no  less  than  forty-seven  iron  foundries, 
machine  shops,  and  boiler  factories,  employing 
upwards  of  three  thousand  hands,  expending  an 
nually  for  wages  not  less  than  $1,000,000;  and  yet 
it  is  safe  to  say  that  not  more  than  two  thousand 
tons  of  the  iron  used  by  these  establishments  are  the 
product  of  our  own  region.  It  would  appear  that 
there  is  something  wrong  here,  when  we  consider 
that  the  deposit  on  Texada  Island,  to  which  I  have 
just  alluded,  contains  on  a  rough  estimate  nearly 
twelve  millions  of  tons  of  ore,  and  that  the  cry  of 
dear  coal  and  scarcity  of  wood  for'  the  purposes  of 
making  charcoal,  which  may  have  some  weight  in 
California,  cannot  prevail  here,  abundance  of  both 
coal  and  wood  being  close  at  hand  for  the  purposes 
of  smelting,  while  nature  affords  every  facility  for 
shipping  the  result  of  the  enterprise,  and  conveying 
it  to  its  market  in  other  lands.  Surely  it  can 
not  be  deemed  Utopian  to  believe  that  the  day  is 
not  far  distant  when  this  production  of  a  metal  in  so 
general  demand  all  over  the  world  will  become  one  of 
the  most  attractive  industries  of  our  coast,  and  that 


IRON.  85 

we  may  supply  our  numerous  foundries  with  the 
basis  of  their  labor,  mined  and  smelted  within  the 
limits  of  our  own  boundary. 

At  the  close  of  the  first  century  of  her  indepen 
dent  existence,  America  has  no  reason  to  be  abashed 
at  her  condition  among  the  nations;  and  when  we 
think  that  California  has  hardly  completed  her  first 
quarter  of  the  same  period,  we  may  well  be  proud  of 
the  progress  which  she  displays  to-day  !  States, 
like  children,  must  have  time  to  grow,  and,  expand 
ing  into  maturity,  to  shake  off  the  weaknesses  of 
their  early  growth  ;  and  if  we  are  now  passing 
through  a  stage  of  fast  life,  too  eager  for  the  sudden 
acquisition  of  wealth,  and  neglectful  of  opportuni 
ties  which  lie  within  the  reach  of  our  hands,  the  day 
is  not  far  distant  in  which  we  shall  cast  off  the  too 
feverish  excitement  which  surrounds  us  now,  and 
with  more  sober  judgment,  and  experience  none  the 
less  valuable  because  purchased  in  the  market  of 
failure,  direct  our  energies  and  our  power  to  the 
grandest  foundations  on  which  the  prosperity  of  a 
country  can  be  based — the  enlightened  cultivation  of 
her  soil,  and  the  industrious  and  intelligent  develop 
ment  of  her  mineral  treasures  ! 


BUBBLES  FROM  BOHEMIA. 


"The  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the  water  hath, 
And  these  are  of  them." — Macbeth. 


SHAKESPEARE. 
"  HIGH  JINKS,"  April  27,  1873. 

A  LITTLE  over  three  centuries  ago,  in  an  obscure 
town  in  the  midland  counties  of  England,  seated  on 
the  edge  of  a  silvery  river,  in  the  bosom  of  a  lovely 
country  hereafter  to  be  hallowed  by  the  glory  of 
immortal  genius,  in  this  memorable  month  of  April, 
the  quiet  household  of  a  simple  tradesman  was 
made  happy  by  the  birth  of  a  son — an  incident  of 
small  importance  in  itself,  but  fraught  with  won 
drous  interest  when  in  these  later  days  we  look  back 
upon  the  past,  and  recognize  the  influence  which 
that  new-born  infant  has  since  exercised  upon  the 
minds  of  civilized  people  throughout  the  world,  and 
the  halo  of  eternal  honor  with  which  by  common 
consent  he  has  been  crowned.  The  pride  and  glory 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  by  universal  opinion 
placed  at  the  very  apex  of  fame's  topmost  pinnacle, 
his  works  translated  into  every  language,  his  noble 
and  passionate  thoughts  taught  in  every  tongue, 
and  his  sublime  utterances  glowing  upon  every  cul 
tivated  lip,  he  stands  alone  and  unapproachable 
among  the  world's  worthies,  as  the  inspired  expo 
nent  of  whatever  is  grand  in  human  thought,  of 
whatever  is  exquisite  and  tender  in  human  sympa 
thy,  and  of  whatever  serves  to  throw  an  illuminating 

89 


Cp  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

radiance  upon  the  more  gloomy  recesses  of  man's 
mysterious  and  many-sided  soul.  The  solemn  depths 
of  abstruse  philosophy,  the  comprehensive  domain 
of  moral  and  social  science,  and  the  grand  empire  of 
external  nature  were  alike  open  to  his  penetrating 
vision ;  and  while  the  sounding  tread  of  the  advanc 
ing  army  of  man's  progressive  thought  found  an  echo 
in  his  soul,  he  ever  and  anon  turned  aside  to  con 
template  the  fairer  forms  around  him,  and  to  paint 
the  glories  of  creation's  universe  in  colors  which  can 
never  fade,  but  which  derive  an  added  freshness  as 
we  view  them  by  the  light  of  that  increased  culture 
bestowed  upon  us  by  the  passage  of  the  years.  The 
details  of  his  personal  life  are  meagre  in  the  extreme ; 
but  though  we  cherish  every  trifling  part  connected 
with  his  history,  so  long  as  his  divine  works  remain 
with  us  the  incidents  of  his  career  are  but  of  little 
moment,  as  in  the  utterance  of  Shakespeare's  name, 
we  pass  out  of  the  sphere  of  life  in  which  he  moved 
when  on  earth,  and  associate  ourselves  with  him 
more  by  the  magnetism  of  his  genius  than  by  the 
knowledge  of  how  he  looked  or  talked,  or  what 
social  position  he  was  called  upon  to  fill.  That  he 
was  kind  and  gentle  in  his  nature  we  are  well 
assured  ;  that  he  was  beloved  by  his  friends  we  have 
the  fullest  testimony  ;  and  that  his  large  and  gen 
erous  heart  found  ample  gratification  in  administer 
ing  to  the  welfare  of  others,  can  be  established 
beyond  a  question.  A  hater  of  injustice  and  a  foe 
to  tyranny  ;  fighting,  in  a  somewhat  darkened  and 


SHA  KE  SPEA  RE.  9 1 

slavish  age,  the  battle  of  equal  rights  for  all  man 
kind  ;  always  upholding  the  cause  of  the  oppressed, 
and  fearing  not  to  expose  and  lay  bare  to  view  the 
follies  and  crimes  of  vicious  rulers,  he  was  preemi 
nently  a  reformer  of  the  most  exalted  and  unselfish 
type.  The  lessons  which  he  everywhere  teaches,  of 
duty  to  parents,  of  the  love  which  should  pervade 
the  social  circle,  of  the  respect  which  should  be 
given  to  the  gentler  sex,  of  the  strict  honesty  of 
purpose  which  should  characterize  every  action  of 
our  lives,  the  abiding  faith  which  he  inculcates,  of 
reliance  on  a  higher  power,  and  the  grand  and 
solemn  truths  which  he  utters  as  to  the  immortality 
of  man's  soul,  exhibit  to  us  in  a  most  powerful 
degree  the  excellence  of  his  moral  nature;  and  the 
grains  of  gold  which  he  has  everywhere  scattered 
along  the  highway  of  life,  indicate  the  unbounded 
wealth  of  his  genius  and  the  wondrous  fertility  of 
his  mental  power. 

What  subject  has  he  not  touched  ?  What  theme 
has  he  not  exalted?  What  phase  of  intellectual 
beauty  has  he  not  polished  and  adorned  ?  In  saying 
of  him  that  "  he  was  not  for  an  age,  but  for  all  time," 
his  brother  poet  has  but  echoed  the  universal  senti 
ment  of  mankind  ;  for  judging  Shakespeare's  genius 
by  the  light  of  our  modern  civilization,  we  see  clearly 
how  far  in  advance  of  his  own  age  were  most  of  the 
principles  which  he  inculcates,  and  how,  even  with  us, 
he  still  points  to  a  higher  and  more  refined  state  of 
society  than  that  which  we  now  enjoy.  And  as  the 


Q2  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

centuries  roll  on,  so  will  the  divine  principles  of  his 
enduring  philosophy  receive,  year  by  year,  a  fuller 
and  more  extended  illustration  ;  and  as  they  have 
taught  our  fellows  in  the  past,  so  in  the  time  to  come, 
will  generation  after  generation  drink  in  the  nectar 
of  their  ambrosial  truths,  and  banquet  on  the  feast 
of  holy  thoughts  and  gorgeous  combinations  which 
have  been  so  lavishly  spread  before  them.  The 
clouds  which  gather  round  and  make  dim  the  record 
of  the  past,  roll  away  at  his  mystic  touch,  and  the 
history  of  the  feudal  ages  becomes  a  living,  breathing 
reality — the  fanciful  realm  of  the  creatures  that 

"  On  the  sand,  with  printless  foot, 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune," 

is  no  longer  a  freak  of  the  imagination,  but  by  his  wiz 
ard's  wand  starts  forth  into  a  quick  and  active  world. 
The  varying  scenes  of  life's  solemn  drama  are 
peopled  by  veritable  beings,  who  awaken  our 
sympathies,  our  love,  our  terror,  or  our  hate,  and 
bind  us  into  a  fast  communion  with  their  thoughts, 
their  sufferings,  and  their  deeds.  We  shudder  with 
Lear  upon  the  gloomy  heath  :  we  are  weary  with 
Touchstone  among  the  groves  of  Arden  ;  v/e  weep 
with  Romeo  over  his  Juliet's  tomb;  we  ''suffer 
love"  with  Benedick  ;  and  feel  with  the  melancholy 
Dane  "  how  stale,  flat  and  unprofitable  are  all  the 
uses  of  this  world." 

Shakespeare's  creations  are  flesh  and  blood,  real, 
tangible,  bodily   men  and  women,  and  their  words 


SHAKESPEARE.  93 

are  to  us  as  the  exalted  thoughts  of  daily  life,  re 
fined  and  elevated  by  contact  with  a  superior  con 
dition  of  being.  Nothing  which  involves  the  welfare 
of  the  race  is  too  grand  for  his  consideration  ;  nothing 
which  the  Creator  has  called  into  being  is  too  insig 
nificant  for  the  studious  contemplation  of  his  mind. 
The  spirit  of  prophecy  has  more  than  once  descended 
upon  him,  and  the  completion  of  Puck's  girdle  round 
about  the  earth  was  to  him  a  thing  of  certainty. 
In  law,  he  is  a  lawyer;  in  statecraft,  a  statesman  ; 
in  medicine,  a  wise  physician  ;  in  government,  a 
ruler;  and  in  the  wide  and  varied  field  of  science,  a 
careful  and  acute  observer.  He  is  preeminently  a 
naturalist,  in  the  broader  sense  of  the  term,  not  the 
man  of  mere  technical  knowledge,  of  names  and 
terms,  of  dry  classification,  whose  brain  is  filled  with 
genera  and  species,  varieties  and  races,  groups  and 
affinities,  but  one  possessed  of  that  faculty  of  obser 
vation  (given  but  to  few)  even  of  the  meanest  things 
— a  power  of  discovering  their  varied  uses,  and  point 
ing  out  their  rank  and  value  in  the  great  chain  of 
nature.  The  rocks  and  woods,  the  trees  and  flowers, 
the  rolling  sea,  the  calm  and  tempest,  the  sunbeam 
and  the  dew-drop,  the  tiny  insect  and  the  giants  of 
the  animal  world,  are  alike  to  him  emblems  of  cre 
ative  power,  and  speak  to  his  receptive  soul  in  the 
Divine  language  of  his  God. 

It  would  be  easy  to  point  out  very  many  of  the 
instances  in  which  Shakespeare  has  so  forcibly 
shown  his  wonderful  observation  of  the  many 


•'.;. 


94  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

phenomena  of  nature,  of  the  winds  and  storms,  of 
the  influence  of  the  tides,  of  the  strange  mystery  of 
vegetable  life,  of  the  "  sermons  in  stones  "  beneath 
our  feet,  and  of  those  wonderful  instincts  in  the 
lower  order  of  creatures  which  tread  so  closely 
on  the  heels  of  reason  ;  instances  which,  for  clear 
ness  of  expression,  and  conciseness  of  description, 
have  never  been  excelled.  Who  can  ever  forget 
Miranda's  picture  of  the  tempest,  or  Lorenzo's 
exquisite  "  patines  of  bright  gold"  ?  while  the  syl 
van  scenes  of  "  As  You  Like  It"  are  redolent 
of  country  perfume,  and  shed  on  the  heart  an 
influence  of  calm  and  peace.  The  accuracy  of 
Shakespeare  as  an  observer  is  proved  by  the  fidelity 
to  the  times  of  their  appearance,  with  which  Perdita 
strings  together  her  wildflowers  at  the  sheep-shear 
ing  ;  by  the  "  ugly  and  venomous  "  toad,  now  by  the 
investigations  of  modern  science  discovered  to  emit 
an  acrid  poison  ;  and  by  the  fact  that  Huber,  who 
devoted  his  whole  life  to  the  subject,  added  but 
little  to  our  knowledge,  and  certainly  left  no  more 
perfect  description  of  the  habits  of  the  honey-bee, 
than  that  given  by  Shakespeare  in  "  Henry  the  V  ": 

' '  So  work  the  bees  : 
Creatures  that  by  a  rule  in  nature  teach 
The  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king,  and  officers  of  sorts  ; 
Where  some,  like  magistrates,  correct  at  home  ; 
Others,  like  merchants,  venture  trade  abroad  ; 
Others,  like  soldiers,  armed  in  their  stings, 
Make  boot  upon  the  summer's  velvet  buds  ; 
Which  pillage  they  with  merry  march  bring  home, 


SHAKESPEARE.  95 

To  the  tent-royal  of  their  emperor  ; 
Who,  busied  in  his  majesty,  surveys 
The  singing  masons  building  roofs  of  gold, 
The  civil  citizens  kneading  up  the  honey, 
The  poor  mechanic  porters  crowding  in 
Their  heavy  burdens  at  his  narrow  gate  ; 
The  sad-eyed  justice  with  his  drowsy  hum, 
Delivering  o'er  to  executors  pale 
The  lazy,  yawning  drone — " 

His  knowledge  of  law  was  vast  and  comprehen 
sive  ;  and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  judges 
of  modern  times,  the  late  Lord  Campbell,  has 
devoted  a  volume  to  an  examination  of  Shake 
speare's  legal  phraseology,  the  closeness  with  which 
he  has  everywhere  followed  the  technicalities  of  this 
somewhat  uninviting  subject,  being  as  wonderful 
as  it  is  admirable.  His  enunciation  of  the  principles 
of  moral  philosophy  has  furnished  the  groundwork 
for  many  an  elaborate  address,  and  no  essay  on  the 
subject  can  be  completed  without  a  reference  to 
him,  and  a  quotation  from  his  writings.  In  politics, 
in  religion,  in  the  minor  duties  of  life,  he  stands 
forward  as  a  teacher  and  a  text,  and  perhaps  the 
laws  which  should  govern  society  have  received  a 
fuller  illustration  from  him  than  from  all  the  writers 
who  have  ever  lived — an  illustration  all  the  more 
forcible,  because,  clothed  in  delightful  imagery,  it 
takes  deep  root  in  men's  souls,  and  by  its  own 
inherent  power,  buds  and  blossoms  into  beauty. 

Upon  the  art  of  which,  apart  from  his  literary 
genius,  he  was  a  worthy  and  conscientious  professor, 
he  has  shed  an  undying  lustre,  and  the  drama  and 


96  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

Shakespeare  are  now  inseparable,  linked  together  by 
a  chain  which  time  can  never  destroy,  and  mutually 
strengthened  by  the  improving  taste  of  mankind, 
and  by  the  mastery  over  ignorance,  which  belong  to 
the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good.  Much  as  may 
be  said  about  the  decline  of  the  drama,  there  is 
not  a  night  in  the  year  on  which,  in  some  theatre 
or  other,  a  play  of  Shakespeare's  is  not  performed ; 
and  the  worthy  way  in  which,  assisted  by  the  neces 
sary  and  pleasing  adjuncts  of  scenery  and  costume, 
his  works  have  of  late  years  been  presented,  is  in 
itself  sufficient  evidence  of  his  value  as  a  teacher, 
and  of  the  desire  on  the  part  of  the  people  to  hon 
or  themselves  by  honoring  him. 

The  magnificent  mounting  of  many  of  Shakes 
peare's  dramas  by  the  enterprise  of  Macready  and 
Kean,  and  still  later  by  Mr.  Calvert,  has  become  a 
matter  of  theatrical  history  in  England,  while  in 
your  own  country  Edwin  Booth,  Lawrence  Barrett, 
and  John  McCullough  have  acquired  the  gayest 
leaves  of  their  managerial  wreaths  by  the  care 
evinced  by  them  in  the  production  of  these  immor 
tal  creations.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  such 
men  are  public  benefactors — they  familiarize  the 
mind  of  the  spectator  with  language  of  the  most 
exalted  strain,  and  teach  the  history  of  almost  for 
gotten  periods  by  an  appeal  to  the  intelligence 
through  the  medium  of  scenic  decoration.  Decline 
of  the  drama,  forsooth !  As  long  as  the  English 
language  lasts,  as  long  as  Shakespeare  exists  to  us, 


SHAKESPEARE.  97 

the  drama  as  an  art  can  never  decline,  and  the  more 
frequent  production  of  his  plays  will  educate  a  race 
of  actors,  who  will  give  a  more  lasting  strength  to 
their  noble  profession,  and  tend  more  and  more  to 
elevate  it  to  its  proper  rank  among  the  teachers  of 
our  age.  By  the  vast  extent  and  variety  of  his  sub 
jects,  the  extreme  familiarity  with  all  topics  on 
which  he  has  employed  his  pen,  this  "  myriad- 
minded  man"  stands  forth  to  us  as  the  world's 
wonder;  and  it  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise  that  some 
doubt  should  exist  in  the  minds  of  many,  as  to  his 
sole  authorship  of  the  works  ascribed  to  him,  and 
that  many  theories  should  have  been  set  up  as  to 
their  origin.  One  of  these  theories  will  be  elaborately 
and  ably  presented  to  you  to-night,  and  a  talented 
argument  will  be  given  to  you  for  consideration,  to 
the  effect  that  the  dramas  which  we  reverence  so 
much,  were  the  work  of  Lord  Bacon.  Without 
here  expressing  any  opinion  upon  the  subject,  I 
will  only  say,  that  "  these  opinions,  if  they  prove 
nothing  more,  prove  the  exaltation  of  the  object ; 
their  contradictions  are  praise.  For,  as  men  differ 
not  about  those  things  within  their  reach,  but  only 
about  those  above  it, "  so  is  the  nature  of  Shakes 
peare's  liquid  inspiration  above  our  reach,  save  so 
far  as  its  golden  drops  bubble  over  its  chalice  "  to 
quench  the  thirsty  lips  of  the  world."  I  know  well 
how  difficult  it  is  to  say  any  thing  new  of  our  hon 
ored  poet.  I  know  how  in  praising  him,  we  are 
liable  to  "  gild  refined  gold ;"  but  in  an  hour  like 


9  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

this,  when,  with  that  friendly  communion  which  ex 
ists  among  us,  we  meet,  in  that  conviviality  of  soul 
which  he  so  much  enjoyed,  to  lay  our  poor  offerings 
upon  the  altar  of  his  memory,  the  homage,  however 
weak,  must  be  paid  ;  the  tribute,  however  unworthy, 
must  be  rendered  ;  the  worship,  however  imperfect, 
must  ascend  to  the  roof-tree  of  his  mighty  temple. 
According  to  the  universal  doom  of  our  common 
humanity,  he  has  long  passed  away  from  earth,  but 
his  influence  is  felt  with  increasing  power  day  by 
day,  refining  and  softening  all  who  come  within  its 
sphere,  by  the  light  of  its  eternal  radiance  dissipa 
ting  the  gloomy  shadows  of  life,  and  casting  upon 
the  pathway  of  many  a  weary  wanderer  a  gleam  of 
glory  which  will  light  with  cheerfulness  and  joy  the 
track  of  his  onward  steps.  And 

"  If  there  be,  as  holy  men  have  deemed 
A  land  of  souls  beyond  that  sable  shore," 

surely  it  is  not  too  much  to  believe  that  the  beam 
ing  gentleness  of  his  nature  looks  down  upon  our 
festal  hour,  and  clothes  our  night's  enjoyment  with 
the  unspeakable  beauty  of  his  smile. 


ADDRESS   ON   THE   OCCASION   OF  THE    REMOVAL   OF 

THE      BOHEMIAN      CLUB     FROM      SACRAMENTO 

STREET  TO  PINE  STREET,  DECEMBER,  1876. 

The  time  has  come  in  which,  as  we  lay  aside,  with 
a  feeling  somewhat  akin  to  regret,  the  old  garment 
that,  for  many  an  hour,  has  shielded  us  in  sunshine 
and  in  storm,  we  must  bid  adieu  to  these  pleasant 
rooms  which  have  so  long  echoed  to  the  sound  of 
merry  laughter,  to  the  swell  of  mysterious  and 
entrancing  music,  and  to  the  utterance  of  the  many 
bright  thoughts  which  have  had  their  origin  within 
the  compass  of  their  walls.  About  every  parting 
common  to  this  life  of  ours,  there  is  some  tinge  of 
regret,  and  surely  we  may  be  pardoned  if,  amid  the 
thoughts  which  throng  upon  us  at  the  recollection 
of  all  that  enjoyment  which  we  have  partaken  of 
within  this  "  small  domain,"  a  shade  of  sorrow 
should  steal  for  a  moment  over  us,  as  we  think  that 
this  is  the  last  time  we  shall  ever  gather  in  this 
place — a  place  hallowed  by  many  delightful  memo 
ries, — which  will,  long  after  we  have  quitted  it,  be 
haunted  in  our  minds  by  the  spirits  of  all  the  good 
things  that  have  had  their  birth  within  its  con 
fines,  and  by  the  echoes  of  that  innocent  mirth 
which,  while  giving  zest  and  enjoyment  to  the  hour, 
has  left  no  sting  behind.  Five  years  have  not 

99 


100  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

entirely  rolled  by  since  the  foundation  of  this 
Society,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  in  those 
five  years  the  progress  made  by  the  Bohemian  Club 
is  a  fact  in  which  its  members  may  justly  take  an 
honorable  pride,  for  its  success  has  been  of  such  a 
nature  as  to  redound  to  the  credit,  not  only  of  those 
more  immediately  interested  in  its  welfare,  but  to 
the  community  among  which  it  was  formed,  and  to 
the  city  which  can  boast  of  an  organization  at  once 
so  powerful  and  so  elevating  in  its  character.  The 
existence  of  a  true  purpose  in  life,  to  the  attainment 
of  which  the  strongest  efforts  of  man's  will  are 
directed,  and  whose  goal  is  kept  steadily  before  the 
mental  eye,  is  the  surest  incentive  to  worldly 
advancement ;  and  the  purpose  of  this  Club,  ever 
held  in  view  by  those  who  have  had  the  direction 
of  its  affairs,  has  been  one  grand  cause  of  its  pros 
perity  to-day.  That  purpose  is  evidenced  in  the 
many  delightful  evenings,  like  the  present,  which 
we  have  passed  together,  in  which  many  an  original 
contribution  has  been  given  to  music  and  literature, 
well  deserving  a  wider  field  of  recognition  and 
regard.  Within  another  year,  I  trust  that  some  of 
the  best  of  these  will  be  presented  in  a  permanent 
form  to  the  world,  so  that  a  visible  record  may  be 
offered,  if  any  were  needed,  that  all  that  passes  here 
is  not  "  idle  jest  and  useless  laughter,"  but  that  our 
"  High  Jinks"  have  been  the  means  of  inspiring 
many  a  worthy  thought  and  inculcating  many  a 
useful  lesson.  Nor  is  it  less  a  cause  for  congratula- 


ADDRESS.  IOI 

tion,  that  an  utter  want  of  selfishness  has  been 
exhibited  among  us,  and  that  what  we  have  had  to 
give  has  been  given  without  stint  to  strangers  in 
common  with  ourselves.  Since  our  organization, 
not  less  than  one  thousand  invitations  have  been 
issued  to  visitors  from  a  distance  and  to  residents  of 
the  city,  and  we  can  at  least  claim  the  merit  of  dis 
pensing  what  hospitality  we  have  had  to  offer  with 
no  niggardly  hand.  And  it  is  but  fair  to  add  that  that 
feeling  has  been  duly  reciprocated,  and  that  most  of 
the  distinguished  men  and  women  who  have  visited 
San  Francisco  during  our  Club  existence  have  hon 
ored  these  rooms  with  their  presence  and  entered 
warmly  and  with  considerable  interest  into  our 
doings  and  our  hopes. 

Our  absent  members,  too,  are  winning  honors  for 
themselves,  and  at  the  same  time  spreading  in  far- 
off  lands  the  beneficial  influences  of  our  society. 
Miller  and  Stoddard  are  crowning  themselves  with 
literary  honors  ;  Randolph  Rogers  is  glorifying  him 
self  and  his  beloved  art  by  new  triumphs  ;  and  Wil 
liamson  is  earning  fame  and  fortune  before  a  critical 
London  audience.  Nor  are  our  own  resident  artist 
members  to  be  overlooked,  for  among  them  are 
many  names  of  which  any  community  may  well  be 
proud,  and  their  earnest  devotion  to  the  studies 
they  have  chosen  as  their  own,  gives  brilliancy  to 
the  Association  of  which  they  are  honored  members, 
and  at  the  same  time  elevates  the  people  among 
whom  they  dwell. 


IO2  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

So  that,  in  bursting  from  the  chrysalis  state  of  our 
past  existence,  into  the  more  brilliant  one  of  that 
which  is  to  come,  we  leave  behind  us  no  regrets,  but 
go  forward  with  courage  and  determination  to  what 
seems  a  bright  and  pleasant  future.  I  have  said, 
"We  leave  behind  us  no  regrets";  but  is  that  so? 
And  are  no  sad  memories  connected  with  the 
hours  we  have  passed  here?  Alas!  alas!  A  spectre 
sits  at  every  feast,  and  the  cloud  and  the  sunshine 
are  always  near  each  other !  At  this  moment  come 
crowding  upon  us  recollections  of  many  a  comrade 
who  has  gone  down  in  the  march  of  life,  "  whose 
place  is  vacant  by  the  hearth,"  and  who  has  passed 
onward  in  his  journey 

"  To  join 

The  innumerable  caravan  which  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death." 

The  list  is  longer  than  we  like  to  think,  for  four 
teen  of  our  companions  have  passed  away  from 
earth  ;  and  though  the  very  names  of  some  may  be 
unknown  to  many  of  you,  there  are  a  few  who  are 
"  familiar  in  your  mouths  as  household  words,"  and 
of  whom  you  daily  speak  with  affection  and  regret, 
The  genial,  eccentric,  kind-hearted  Johns,  who  left 
behind  him  so  bright  a  record  of  goodness  and 
honesty  of  heart,  that  all  who  knew  him  loved  and 
respected  the  strong  sincerity  of  his  character ;  the 
generous,  indefatigable  Ralston,  whose  loss  to  San 
Francisco  yet  wrings  the  hearts  of  her  people ;  the 


ADDRESS.  103 

grand,  self-sacrificing  "  Caxton,"  whose  genius  was 
only  equalled  by  his  tenderness  of  soul,  and  whose 
recognition  as  a  man  of  letters,  though  tardy,  will 
be  none  the  less  and  secure  lasting ;  the  cultivated 
Ross  Browne,  who  went  down  to  his  resting-place 
in  the  prime  of  his  manhood,  carrying  with  him  the 
regrets  of  educated  minds  in  every  corner  of  the 
earth  in  which  the  English  language  is  spoken  and 
literature  is  honored  as  a  teacher  of  humanity ;  and 
"  under  the  sod  and  the  dew  "  lies  the  gentle, 
loving,  woman-like  heart  of  Owen  Marlowe,  whose 
clinging  nature  found  room  for  sympathy  with  every 
creature  with  whom  he  came  in  contact :  all  these 
have  wandered  with  the  grim  ferryman  over  the 
river, 

"  Into  the  land  of  the  departed, 
Into  the  silent  land." 

And  there  is  another  yet,  known  only  to  a  very  few 
within  the  hearing  of  my  voice,  who,  had  he  lived, 
would  have  been  one  of  the  Club's  brightest  orna 
ments,  as  he  was  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  un 
selfish  of  men.  I  allude  to  Charles  Duquesnay,  for 
a  long  time  editor  of  the  Courier  de  San  Francisco, 
who  possessed  talents  of  no  common  order,  but  who 
was  one  of  that  large  and  unappreciated  class 

"  Whom  fortune  frowns  on, 
Whom  authority  oft  uses  and  forgets — 
But  still  their  souls  are  the  world's  life-blood. 

The  men  who  think, 

Whose  weapon  is  the  pen,  whose  realm  the  mind  ; 
I  mean  not  laurelled  bards,  but  daily  workers, 


104  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

Who,  like  the  electric  force,  unseen,  pervade 
The  sphere  they  quicken,  nameless  till  they  die, 
And  leaving  no  memorial  but  a  world 
Made  better  by  their  lives." 

All  these,  and  others  less  prominent  in  their  varied 
walks  of  life,  have  gone  forever  from  our  earthly 
gaze ;  but  they  have  left  us  happy  in  the  recol 
lections  of  their  friendship,  recollections  of  so  sweet 
a  nature  as  to  induce  us  to  echo  the  simple  prayer 
of  one  of  a  great  master's  creations,  a  prayer  uttered 
at  this  same  festive  season  : 

11  Lord,  keep  my  memory  green." 

I  am  far  from  desiring  to  cast  a  gloom  over  this 
meeting,  or  to  check  the  flow  of  merriment  which 
is  to-night  everywhere  around  us ;  but  something 
has  whispered  to  me  that  we  owed  a  duty  at  this 
hour  to  those  dear  associates  who  can  be  with  us 
bodily  no  more,  and  that  it  was  my  part  of  that  duty 
to  pay  this  imperfect  tribute  to  their  memory. 

And  so,  as  the  Romans  of  old  bore  with  them,  in 
each  change  of  dwelling,  the  Lares  and  Penates 
which  had  guarded  their  hearth-stone,  and  had  been 
the  unseen  sentinels  of  their  worldly  welfare,  let  us, 
as  we  fold  down  the  page  which  contains  the  record 
of  our  comrades'  lives,  bear  with  us  from  this  spot 
the  knowledge  of  all  that  was  good  in  them,  and  re 
member  with  gratitude  an  association  which  made 
brighter  the  pathway  of  existence,  and  robbed  our 
daily  labor  of  half  its  burden,  by  the  knowledge  that 
there  were  bright  and  genial  souls  who  shared 


ADDRESS.  IO5 

the  weight  of  the  load,  and  who,  with  the  true 
heroism  which  they  manifested,  "pointed  the 
moral "  of  our  own  individual  lives. 


EDWIN  ADAMS. 


This  admirable  actor  and  warm-hearted  man  died  in  November, 
1877,  and  at  the  next  "High  Jinks"  of  the  Bohemian  Club,  of 
which  he  was  a  member,  the  following  was  read,  the  subject  chosen 
for  the  evening's  consideration  being  "  DREAMS  "  ! 

Dreams  and  Dreamland  !  Magic  words,  fraught 
with  such  sweet  and  tender  mystery  !  How  potent 
is  the  spell  they  weave  around  our  lives  !  How  all- 
absorbing  is  the  power  with  which  they  hold  us  in 
their  grasp !  The  many  hours  of  weird  uncertainty, 
of  lingering  between  this  earth  and  that  all  but 
impenetrable  shadow  of  the  world  beyond,  which 
is  their  special  realm,  are,  of  our  daily  life,  "a  thing 
apart "  ;  and  as  the  soul  returns  to  its  material  sur 
roundings,  how  jarring  sometimes  is  the  shock,  but 
how  gentle  are  the  recollections  of  our  wander 
ings  in  that  strange  land  of  wild,  unreal  realities ! 
The  actions  of  those  silent  hours  go  with  us 
through  the  day,  and  give  a  color  to  the  waking 
world  around  us. 

"  I  would  recall  a  vision,  which  I  dreamed — 
Perchance  in  sleep — for  in  itself  a  thought, 
A  slumbering  thought,  is  capable  of  years, 
And  curdles  a  long  life  into  one  hour." 

The  scene  is  a  pleasant  New  England  village, 
fresh  in  the  calm  radiance  of  the  setting  sun.  The 

106 


EDWIN  ADAMS.  IO/ 

trees  are  waving  their  last  requiem  to  the  fading 
rays — the  birds  are  darting  toward  their  downy 
resting-places,  and  the  busy  hum  of  life,  which  a 
few  hours  before  was  strong  in  its  mighty  activity, 
dies  into  the  softest  murmur,  heralding  the  ap 
proach  of  a  silence  at  once  most  solemn  and  pro 
found.  The  time  is  one  fitted  for  meditation,  and 
grateful  to  the  thoughtful  soul.  Beneath  the  deep 
ening  shadows  of  those  mighty  oaks,  there  sits  a 
youth  of  less  than  fifteen  summers.  A  sense  of  deep 
and  earnest  thought  is  in  his  face,  and  away  across  the 
distant  waters  his  eye  looks  longingly  and  with  a 
flash  of  hope.  No  pampered  child  of  wealth  is  he, 
but  one  reared  in  the  midst  of  life's  hardest  strug 
gles  ;  yet  is  he  fair  to  look  upon,  and  in  his  bright 
and  speaking  face,  and  noble  brow,  may  be  traced 
the  presence  of  an  intellect  above  the  common 
range.  His  thoughts  are  deep  and  somewhat  mourn 
ful,  but  there  is  a  light  in  his  looks  which  tells  of 
energy  and  power,  the  power  which  crushes  obsta 
cles,  and  treads  obstructions  down.  The  dog  which 
crouches  at  his  feet  and  gazes  wistfully  into  his 
companion's  eyes,  is  now  scarce  noted  by  him; 
but  in  the  open  book  within  his  hand  is  seen  the 
subject  of  his  reflection,  for  on  the  page  I  read 
the  words  of  the  master  : 

"  Our  doubts  are  traitors, 
And  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oft  might  win 
By  fearing  to  attempt." 

By  the  wizard  hand  of  Fancy,  the  curtain  which 


108  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

shrouded  the  future  from  his  gaze  has  been  partially 
withdrawn,  and  a  picture  opened  to  his  view, 
which  the  fertile  fancy  of  youth  presents  in  fairy 
hues.  He  longs  to  enter  the  confines  of  that  seem 
ingly  celestial  realm,  and,  in  the  eagerness  of  his 
young  life,  he  casts  his  doubts  behind  him,  and, 
with  the  resolution  of  an  ardent  soul,  goes  forth  to 
"do  and  dare." 

The  scene  is  changed  ! 

Beneath  the  flashing  lights  of  a  crowded  assem 
bly,  with  the  eyes  of  the  multitude  directed  toward 
him,  and  the  sympathies  of  his  fellows  drawn  by 
the  magnetism  of  his  own  nature  into  closest  com 
munion  with  him,  the  boy  is  seen  again.  There  is 
no  trembling,  no  hesitancy  now  ;  fear  has  given 
place  to  anxiety,  but  the  hopeful,  earnest  spirit  is 
powerful  over  all !  His  rich  and  sympathetic  voice 
sinks  deep  into  the  hearts  of  those  around  him,  and 
their  unsparing  plaudits  assure  him  that  his  strug 
gles  will  not  be  in  vain,  but  that  the  charmed  vision 
which  the  day-dream  of  his  earlier  youth  had  fashion 
ed  for  his  gaze  might  yet  be  realized  ;  that  the  goal 
which  seemed  to  him  so  distant  then,  might  yet  be 
his  to  win. 

Again  the  scene  is  changed  ! 

That  goal  is  won !  The  crudities  of  boyhood 
have  been  left  behind,  and  the  man  stands  forth 
before  his  fellow-men,  a  teacher  and  a  king!  A 
teacher — for  he  utters  the  grandest  thoughts  of 
grandest  minds,  with  power  which  elevates  while  it 


EDWIN  ADAMS.  IOO, 

entrances ;  which  charms  and  fascinates,  while  it 
enforces  lessons  of  the  highest  truth  !  A  king — 
for  he  rules  the  realm  of  imagination  with  a  mon 
arch's  sway,  and  receives  the  homage  of  admiring 
crowds  !  Perhaps  the  poetic  dreams  of  his  past 
have  given  place  to  stern  realities  ;  perhaps  he  has 
learned  that  the  colors  of  the  fairy  picture  fade  by 
near  approach — that  the  tinsel  is  not  so  bright  as  it 
once  appeared, — but  the  closer  communion  with  his 
kind,  which  a  larger  experience  has  given,  has 
widened  his  heart  and  enlarged  his  sympathies,  until 
with  a  generous  and  loving  soul  he  takes  all  man 
kind  into  his  embrace,  and  longs  to  shed  the  warmth 
of  his  own  glorious  nature  upon  all  around  him.  He 
loves  and  is  loved  by  all ;  his  hand  is  grasped  in 
cordial  friendship  by  those  to  whom  he  comes,  and 
his  path  is  made  bright  by  the  blessings  of  well- 
earned  affection.  The  garlands  of  an  enduring  fame 
are  placed  upon  his  brow,  and  his  step  is  lightened 
by  the  knowledge  that  the  appreciation  which  he 
longed  for  and  strove  so  hard  to  gain,  has  come  to 
him  in  the  prime  of  his  manhood.  The  future  is 
broad  and  bright  before  him,  and  he  looks  bold 
ly  into  the  coming  years  as  fraught  with  promises 
of  grander  triumphs  and  extended  opportunities. 
More  for  others  than  for  himself  he  seems  to  live, 
and  the  surroundings  of  his  existence  are  but  the 
means  of  bringing  joy  to  the  saddened  heart — the 
expression  of  a  boundless  generosity,  which  was  at 
once  a  giving  and  a  praise  ! 


IIO  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

Another  transformation  comes  ! 

The  loved  one  is  lying  low  !  The  strong  and 
well-knit  frame  is  wasted  by  disease,  and  the  clear 
and  ringing  voice  is  soft  and  feeble  in  its  tone  ! 
The  hand  so  often  stretched  to  aid  is  all  but  power 
less  now,  and  the  bright  and  flashing  eye  is  grad 
ually  parting  with  its  lustre  ! 

But  the  energy,  the  unyielding  spirit  of  youth, 
are  there  ;  the  cheerfulness  of  soul  is  still  as  strong 
as  ever,  and  the  merry  jest  and  kindly  speech  yet 
ring  with  laughter  from  the  tongue  !  The  sweet 
and  gentle  love  of  woman  is  near  to  tend  and  soothe 
the  sufferer ;  and  men,  with  hearts  made  soft  by 
sympathy,  look  on,  and  wonder  if  their  friend  can 
die!  If  love,  and  hope,  and  friendship's  strongest 
bonds  could  have  driven  the  destroyer  away,  the 
moment  which  all  dreaded,  but  which  all  knew  was 
fast  approaching,  would  have  been  long  postponed, 
for  his  departure  from  amongst  us  could  but  be 
regarded  as  a  loss  the  world  can  seldom  feel,  an 
infliction  which  time  can  but  rarely  impose  !  But 
the  finger  of  the  angel  had  touched  him,  and  gently 
beckoned  him  away.  Across  the  dark  valley  which 
must  one  day  be  travelled  by  us  all,  he  passed  in 
calmness  and  in  peace,  unconscious  of  the  wail  of 
sorrow  which  announced  the  completion  of  his  jour 
ney  !  The  Godlike  spirit  of  friendship  made  happy 
his  parting  hours,  and  the  loving  one  who  tended  his 
sick  couch  with  the  courage  of  a  martyr,  has  felt  the 
kindliness  of  heart  which  he  inspired,  a  slight  return 


ED  WIN  ADAMS.  1 1 1 

only  for  the  good  he  did  for  others,  and  for  the  many 
noble  deeds  which  had  their  spring  in  the  fountains 
of  his  own  loving  and  tender  nature. 

Again  a  change  appears  ! 

A  casket  strewn  with  flowers,  sweet  emblems  of 
affection  and  of  hope,  followed  by  a  tearful  crowd  of 
mourners,  is  slowly  borne  to  an  open  grave.  Cheer 
ing  words  are  said  as  the  poor  remains  are  lowered 
to  mingle  with  the  dust  of  the  ages — as  one  more 
mortal  joins  "  the  innumerable  caravan"  of  the  past. 
But  with  the  trustful  eye  of  hope  I  behold  our 
friend  still  standing  by  our  side,  drying  the  tears  of 
the  afflicted  ones,  and  stilling  the  anguish  of  their 
suffering  souls.  The  same  look  of  longing,  earnest 
thought  which  marked  the  boy  in  the  far  distant 
past  irradiates  the  face  of  the  man,  and  the  energy 
by  which  it  was  then  characterized  tells,  in  tones 
which  cannot  be  mistaken,  that  the  life  which  was 
begun  with  so  much  promise  and  devotion  HERE 
will  be  rounded  and  completed  THERE  ! 

And  so  the  vision  faded  from  my  view  !  But  as 
it  passed  I  saw  that  the  tear-drops  which  had  fallen 
had  congealed  to  pearls  of  affection,  and  the  flowers 
had  shaped  themselves  into  garlands  of  memory — 
in  the  midst  of  which  I  read,  in  letters  of  shining 
gold,  the  name  of 

EDWIN  ADAMS  ! 


JAMES  HAMILTON, 
ARTIST. 

March  17,   1878. 

Far  from  his  home,  far  from  those  who  were 
nearest  and  dearest  to  him  on  earth,  James  Hamil 
ton  has  passed  away  !  The  sudden  manner  of  his 
taking  off  has  brought  with  it  a  shock  to  those  who 
knew  and  loved  him,  and  it  is  hard  even  now  to 
believe  that  he,  whom,  only  a  week  ago  to-day,  I  saw 
and  conversed  with,  apparently  in  his  usual  health, 
should  have  journeyed  into  that  mysterious  land 
whose  portals  are  opened  only  by  the  ringer  of 
Death !  The  men  who,  by  the  power  of  their 
genius,  dignify  and  elevate  their  race,  and  who 
become  in  the  best  sense  its  teachers,  belong  spe 
cially  to  no  country,  but  by  the  magic  power  of 
their  minds  take  all  humanity  into  their  embrace, 
and  join  all  nations  in  one  universal  brotherhood  ! 
Such  men,  therefore,  are  benefactors  unknown  to 
themselves  ;  they  scatter  blessings  unwittingly  along 
their  pathway,  and  are  entitled  to  the  gratitude  of 
the  ages  !  The  death  of  a  great  artist  is  a  loss  to 
the  world,  and  the  man  whose  remains  lie  cold  and 
still  before  us,  was  no  common  man.  His  genius 
has  made  its  impress  upon  the  art-history  of  his 

112 


JAMES  HAMIL  TON.  1 1 3 

adopted  country,  and  when  we,  who  now  assemble 
to  pay  a  last  tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory,  shall 
have  passed  from  earth,  the  name  of  James  Hamil 
ton  will  live  enshrined  in  the  radiance  of  an  almost 
imperishable  fame,  and  his  works  be  treasured 
among  the  greatest  triumphs  of  the  painter's  skill. 
His  "Capture  of  the  Serapis,"  and  "Burning  of  Le 
Bon  Homme  Richard,"  are  historical  records  of  which 
America  may  be  justly  proud,  and  upon  these  alone 
the  fame  of  our  departed  friend  may  well  be  per 
mitted  to  repose.  Little  is  known,  even  by  his  most 
intimate  friends,  of  Hamilton's  early  life  ;  but  though 
Great  Britain  claims  the  honor  of  his  birth,  it  was  in 
America  that  his  talent  as  an  artist  was  fostered  and 
found  that  appreciation  which  is  so  dear  to  persist 
ent  and  struggling  labor.  For  over  thirty  years  of 
his  life  he  resided  in  Philadelphia,  and,  as  you  know, 
nearly  three  years  since  he  wandered  to  these  West 
ern  shores,  on  which  his  career  has  come  to  this  so 
sudden  and  unlooked-for  end.  It  will  be  fresh  in 
your  remembrance  that  when  his  "  Chase  of  the 
Smuggler"  was  first  exhibited  in  San  Francisco,  the 
lovers  of  art  discovered  that  a  great  power  had  come 
among  us,  and  that  by  his  advent  the  community 
had  been  enriched  by  the  accession  of  a  master 
mind.  In  this  city  some  of  'his  finest  works  have 
found  their  proper  position,  and  San  Francisco  may 
well  be  proud  of  the  homage  it  has  rendered  to  a 
genius  so  striking  and  so  powerful  as  his.  Had  he 
been  spared,  it  is  probable,  from  the  indication's  of  his 


114  A  MINGLED    YARN. 

later  work,  that  even  grander  results  than  we  have 
yet  known  would  have  been  given  to  the  world,  but 
they  are  not  needed  to  insure  his  fame.  Nor  was 
his  ability  confined  to  his  profession.  Repossessed 
a  vast  fund  of  varied  information,  and  in  his  brighter 
moments  was  a  companion  whose  brilliancy  of  con 
versation  won  all  hearts  to  him,  and  can  never  be 
forgotten  by  those  who  were  admitted  to  an  inti 
macy  with  him.  He  numbered  among  his  friends 
most  of  the  celebrated  men  and  women  of  his  time  ; 
and  the  late  Charles  Dickens,  Dr.  Kane,  the  Arctic 
explorer,  and  Charlotte  Cushman  always  regarded 
him  with  the  warmest  feelings  of  affection.  But  he 
is  gone.  The  skilful  hand  is  cold  in  death,  and  the 
eyes  which  delighted  in  the  changing  aspects  of 
nature  will  behold  them  for  us  no  more  ! 

It  would  be  well  if  we  could  take  leave  of  him  as 
an  artist  alone,  without  a  thought  of  the  imperfec 
tions  of  the  man.  But  who  of  us  shall  judge  him  ? 
Beneath  the  surface  of  his  nature  there  welled  up  a 
spring  of  tenderness  and  love  for  all  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact  ;  and  his  kind  and  generous  friend, 
"  Grace  Greenwood,"  who,  while  she  knew  and  prized 
his  genius,  knew  also  the  weakness  which  was  his 
besetting  sin,  spoke  of  him  to  me  as  a  child  who 
needed  a  stronger  will  than  his  own  to  guide  him 
aright  and  place  him  above  the  temptation  he  found 
so  hard  to  withstand.  The  one  stumbling-block  of 
his  life  has  destroyed  many  a  son  of  genius,  but  it 
may  be,  that  in  the  existence  to  which  he  has  gone 


JA  ME  S  HA  MIL  TON.  1 1  5 

he  will  see  more  clearly  the  imperfections  of  his 
career,  and  be  enabled  to  help  some  poor,  suffering 
brother  contending  with  the  enemy  which  van 
quished  him. 

So  let  him  rest.  If  we  can  "  point  a  moral"  from 
the  failings  of  his  life,  it  is  well  for  us  to  do  so,  but 
let  us  draw  the  kindly  veil  of  charity  over  his  foibles, 
and  remember  only  the  better  nature  which  was  so 
large  a  portion  of  the  man  before  us.  While  we 
twine  the  garlands  of  memory  above  his  grave,  let 
the  sweetness  of  the  flowers  bear  with  them  the 
knowledge  only  of  their  beauty  and  freshness,  and 
teach  us  to  think  but  of  those  qualities  in  the  char 
acter  of  our  friend  which,  like  them,  were  lessons  of 
loveliness  and  goodness,  foreshadowing  a  purity 
above  the  grossness  of  earth, — the  links  which  unite 
us  to  the  Divine  ! 


JOSEPH  MAGUIRE. 

March  25,  1878. 

There  are  occasions  in  which  silence  is  more 
eloquent  than  words,  in  which  the  memories  of  the 
past  crowd  so  closely  upon  our  thoughts  that  we 
can  hardly  realize  the  passage  of  the  present,  and 
find  ourselves  shrouded,  as  it  were,  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  all-enfolding  sorrow.  As  we  stand  in  that 
silent,  unspeakable  grief,  beside  the  cold  remains  of 
those  we  love,  and  know  that  the  final  earthly  leave- 
taking  has  come  for  us  and  them,  we  seek  to  blot 
from  our  minds  whatever  harsh  or  ungentle  memo 
ries  might  chance  to  linger  there,  like  shadows  on 
the  sunlight  of  our  life,  and  to  gather  up  only  the 
tender  treasures  left  to  us  by  the  affection  of  the  de 
parted.  In  the  solemn  event  which  has  now  called 
us  together,  we  have  none  of  these  ungentle  memo 
ries  to  put  away,  no  harsh  recollections  to  stifle,  as 
we  bid  farewell  to  the  loved  one  lying  there.  Those 
who  knew  him  need  no  feeble  words  of  mine  to  tell 
how  free  he  was  from  every  act  and  thought  which 
could  tend  to  weaken  the  warm  attachment  which 
he  inspired  among  his  associates, — an  attachment 
which  can  find  no  expression  in  language  ;  so  strong 
and  single-hearted  was  it,  that  it  made  us  thank 
God  for  life,  for  it  proved  to  us  that  there  was  much 

116 


JOSEPH  MAGUIRE. 

that  was  good  in  man.  No,  the  sorrowing  hearts 
that  now  gather  with  tearful  eyes  and  breasts  throb 
bing  with  the  divinest  sympathy  of  affection  around 
the  bier  of  "  poor  Joe,"  can  need  no  recital  of  his 
worth,  no  reminder  of  his  kindly,  gentle  soul.  To 
them  he  can  never  die,  for  the  sweet  influence  of 
his  life  will  be  to  them  always  an  abiding  reality, 
a  resting-place  for  their  heart's  constant  and  un 
changing  love. 

That  love  will  last  as  pure  and  whole 

As  when  he  loved  us  here  in  time, 

And  at  the  spiritual  prime, 
Rewaken  with  the  dawning  soul. 

But  those  to  whom  he  was  comparatively  a 
stranger,  who  knew  him  only  at  a  distance,  and  who 
were  not  permitted  a  glimpse  into  the  real  nature  of 
1  the  man,  can  hardly  realize  how  noble,  how  true  he 
was,  how  utterly  free  from  the  petty  weaknesses 
which  go  to  make  up  a  large  portion  of  the  character 
of  most  of  us,  and  how  large  and  universal  was  his 
sympathy  with  every  suffering  with  which  he  came 
in  contact.  Through  long  years  of  the  closest  inti 
macy,  those  who  were  nearest  to  him  can  recall  no 
single  unkind  thought,  no  harsh  word  against 
another,  no  uncharitable  act  to  dim  the  brightness 
of  his  generous  and  unselfish  life.  Far  from  rich  in 
the  possession  of  the  world's  goods,  he  gave  liber 
ally  of  what  he  earned  to  those  who  needed  it,  and 
away  in  his  far-off  birthplace  beyond  the  sea,  an 
aged  mother,  who  now  sits  in  the  tribulation  of 


Il8  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

mourning  for  her  beloved  and  affectionate  son, 
whose  care  she  was,  and  in  whose  behalf  the 
struggles  of  his  life  were  made,  will  miss  the  gen 
erous  hand  which  ministered  to  her  wants,  and  com 
forted  the  fading  hours  of  her  pilgrimage.  But  it 
may  be  her  happiness  and  consolation  to  know  that 
she  has  had  the  honor  of  giving  to  the  world  one  of 
God's  own  noblemen,  an  honest,  truthful,  and  large- 
hearted  man.  And  let  us  hope,  that  the  sorrowing 
affection  which  bursts  from  the  hearts  of  this  assem 
bly  may  be  wafted  across  the  waters  to  her  lonely 
dwelling,  and,  in  some  sense,  serve  to  still  the 
anguish  of  her  suffering  soul. 

It  is  little  more  than  a  week  ago  that  many  of  us 
who  meet  here  to-day  were  gathered  around  the 
coffin  of  a  son  of  genius,  who  had  been  summoned 
somewhat  suddenly  to  his  "long  home."1  As  is 
usual  on  such  occasions,  some  fitting  words  were 
said,  some  sweet  music  sung,  and  the  voice  of  our 
friend  was  heard  in  those  gentle  strains.  How  little 
did  we,  who  listened  to  its  tones  of  beauty,  dream 
that  it  would  be  for  the  last  time  !  But  alas  !  it  was 
so  decreed.  On  the  evening  of  that  day  he  went  to 
his  bed,  from  which  he  never  rose.  Happily,  he 
suffered  but  little,  if  at  all,  and  his  death  was  as  we 
would  have  such  a  death  to  be.  But  a  short  time 
before  the  close,  he  burst  into  a  strain  of  melody 
such  as  thrilled  the  souls  of  those  who  heard  it, 

1  James  Hamilton,  the  artist,  at  whose  funeral  services  Mr.  Maguire 
sang  one  of  the  hymns.  This  was  the  last  occasion  on  which  his 
friends  were  privileged  to  meet  him  in  life. 


JO  SEPH  MA  G  UIRE.  1 1 9 

and  can  never  be  forgotten  by  them.  As  the  spirit 
parted  from  its  frail  tenement  the  voice  grew  weaker 
and  weaker,  until  it  faded  into  silence,  and  the  har 
monies  of  earth  were  caught  up  and  reechoed  by  the 
angel  band  which  waited  on  the  other  side.  And 
so  our  friend  and  brother  passed  away.  Pure  and 
noble  in  his  life,  beautiful  and  holy  in  his  death,  he 
journeyed  over  the  mysterious  river,  borne  in  the 
arms  of  sweet  and  sacred  song.  His  parting  from 
us  realizes  to  the  full  the  touching  lines  of  an  old 
poet  : 

"  'What  is  that,  mother?'     'The  swan,  my  love  ; 
He  is  floating  down  to  his  native  grove  ; 
Death  darkens  his  eyes,  and  unplumes  his  wings, 
Yet  the  sweetest  song  is  the  last  he  sings. 
Live  so,  my  son,  that  when  death  shall  come, 
Swan-like  and  sweet,  it  may  waft  thee  home.'  " 

We  are  here  to-day  to  pay  the  last  tribute  to  one 
we  loved  so  well.  The  sadness  of  our  hearts  is  the 
deepest  and  most  striking  evidence  of  the  affection 
we  bore  him,  and  the  clasping  hand,  scarce  accom 
panied  by  a  sound,  with  which  we  greet  each  other, 
tells  more  eloquently  than  speech  how  bitter  is  our 
sorrow !  We  take  our  leave  of  him  on  earth,  with 
eyes  so  dim  that  we  can  scarce  behold  the  outlines 
of  that  once  familiar  face,  and  the  "  God  bless  him  !" 
which  rises  to  our  tongue,  can  find  no  utterance  for 
the  sobs  which  choke  our  words.  But  he  needs  no 
blessing  from  us.  The  Father  hath  already  blessed 
him  in  the  bestowal  of  so  sweet  and  sunny  a  nature 


120  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

as  his,  and  in  the  wealth  of  love  which  he  inspired. 
It  is  we  who  are  left  who  need  that  comfort,  and 
when  we  say  "God  bless  us  and  help  us  to  bear 
the  sorrow  which  has  come  across  our  way,"  let  us 
remember  that,  though  parting  is  the  lot  of  life,  in 
the  rest  which  must  come  to  all  there  will  be 

No  more  desperate  endeavor, 
No  more  desolating  "  never," 
No  more  separation — ever — 

Over  there  ! 


MID-SUMMER  "HIGH  JINKS," 

CELEBRATED    SATURDAY,     JUNE    2Q,     1878,     IN   THE    RED    WOODS    OF 
MARIN  CO.,  CAL. 

INVITATION. 

"  If  thou  art  worn,  and  hard  beset 
With  sorrows  that  thou  wouldst  forget  ; 
If  thou  wouldst  read  a  lesson  that  will  keep 
Thy  heart  from  fainting,  and  thy  soul  from  sleep, 
Go  to  the  woods  and  hills  !  " 


BOHEMIAN  CLUB  ROOMS,  ) 


June  6,  1878. 
FRIEND  AND  BROTHER  : 

The  crust  in  which  the  selfish  struggle  of  our  life  too  often  enwraps 
our  better  nature,  and  which,  year  by  year,  gathers  more  and  more 
closely  around  us,  concealing  by  its  gross  shadow  the  light  that  is 
within,  needs  sometimes  a  kindly  touch  for  its  removal  ;  and  where 
can  we  seek  for  such  tender  ministration,  as  at  the  hand  of  our 
mother,  Nature  ? 

The  glorious  old  woods  invite  us  with  their  freshness  to  shake  off 
our  sorrow  with  the  city's  dust,  and  to  enter  their  grand  and  solemn 
cathedral,  where  the  song  of  the  birds  and  the  ripple  of  the  waters 
shall  make  such  music  as  will  inspire  and  give  hope  to  the  sinking 
soul  !  Come,  then,  and  make  merry  ;  come,  with  every  fibre  strung 
to  its  highest  pitch,  and  with  your  heart  prepared  for  enjoyment ; 
come,  and  for  a  time  scatter  to  the  winds  the  cares  of  life,  and  bury 
in  the  waters  of  oblivion  every  sorrow  ! 

Come,  for  the  sake  of  him  who  pens  these  lines,  who  will  soon  be 
divided  from  you  by  the  width  of  the  continent,  and  who  longs  to 
carry  with  him  from  the  land  of  his  love  a  crowning  recollection  of 
the  many  happy  hours  passed  among  "  good  friends  and  true." 

HENRY  EDWARDS, 

Sire. 
121 


122  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

ADDRESS. 

After  many  weeks  of  pleasant  suspense,  the  hour 
we  have  looked  forward  to  has  arrived,  and  we  meet 
to-night  to  hold  high  festival  among  the  towering 
giants  of  these  glorious  woods.  And  where  can  a 
more  fitting  hall  be  chosen,  in  which  to  pledge  each 
other  in  good  fellowship,  and  to  extend  the  kindly 
greetings  which  help  humanity  upon  its  way? 
Around  and  about  us  are  the  witnesses  of  the  great 
est  boon  that  Heaven  can  give  to  man,  the  constant, 
faithful  evidences  of  that  all-pervading  beauty  which 
exists  only  in  the  rolling  hills,  with  their  ever- 
changing  verdure;  the  pure,  the  perfect  trees  ;  and 
beneath  them  their  attendant  spirits,  the  sweet  and 
lovely  flowers.  Amidst  the  groves,  in  which  the  al 
tars  of  "  God's  first  temples  "  sent  up  their  incense 
to  the  awaiting  throne ;  away  from  the  clangor  of 
tongues,  the  restless  rush  of  greed,  and  the  ever-repel 
ling  influence  of  the  city's  throng,  we  come  to  cast  off 
the  material  elements  of  our  being,  to  lift  ourselves  a 
little  higher  in  the  plane  of  existence,  and  to  taste  for 
a  brief  period  of  those  delights  which  well  up  from 
the  fountain  of  happiness,  whose  springs  the  country 
alone  can  supply.  Here,  in  the  depth  of  an  almost 
primeval  forest,  we  feel  at  once  the  littleness  and  the 
grandeur  of  our  lives.  By  contrast  with  the  whirl  of 
streets,  and  the  crushing  excitement  by  which  most 
of  us  are  impelled,  we  are  led,  by  the  "  peace  and 
holy  rest  "  which  here  prevail,  to  pause  and  ask  a 
question  of  the  better  thought  within  :  "  Why  do 


MID-SUMMER    "HIGH  JINKS."  123 

we  miss  the  bounties  which  are  so  lavishly  displayed 
around  us,  and  which  may  be  had  but  for  the  ask 
ing?  Why  do  we  choose  the  rougher  and  more 
dangerous  path,  when  one  of  safety  and  of  beauty 
lies  ever  before  our  eyes?"  The  question  can 
receive  but  one  reply.  It  is,  that  the  love  of  wealth 
has  overgrown  every  true  instinct  of  our  being,  and 
that  the  search  for  riches  is  the  only  one  in  which 
the  eager,  restless  spirit  of  this  so-called  progressive 
age  finds  its  fitting  exercise.  And  yet,  could  all 
men  be  animated  by  the  same  love  of  relaxation  and 
enjoyment  of  Nature's  beauties,  the  world  would 
move  as  steadily  as  before,  and  the  needs  of  life  be 
equally  well  supplied.  Can  one  of  us  for  a  moment 
doubt  that  he  is  better  for  a  closer  contact  like  this 
with  all  that  is  fresh  and  fair  upon  the  earth's 
surface, — with  the  waving  woods,  the  almost  holy 
flowers  ;  with  the  trickling  dew-drop,  and  the  rustling 
wind  ;  with  the  clearer  starlight,  and  the  more 
cloudless  radiance  of  the  sun  ?  No,  there  is  no  man 
here,  who  after  this  slight  embrace  from  the  arms 
of  his  divine  mother,  will  not  return  to  his  daily 
routine  with  a  fresher  heart  and  brain,  and  with  a 
tenderer  and  sweeter  feeling  for  his  fellows.  I 
sometimes  reverence  those  men  of  old  who,  away 
from  the  ever-restless  crowd  of  cities,  wandered  in 
silent  solitude  to  the  mountain's  side  or  the  forest's 
depth,  and  shut  themselves  up  to  commune  with 
their  own  hearts  and  the  irrepressible  beauty  which 
was  so  liberally  spread  before  them.  Such  a  life  may 


124  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

be  in  some  sense  narrow  and  contracted  ;  it  may 
not  touch  the  highest  aims  of  which  our  being  is 
capable,  but  it  is  surely  as  pure,  as  noble,  and  as 
useful,  as  the  constant  battle  for  wealth,  fought 
upon  the  ignoble  fields  of  selfishness  and  wrong. 
The  trouble  of  this  age  is  that  it  is  too  feverish — 
too  much  given  to  the  whirl  and  worry  of  life,  and 
too  little  inclined  to  rejoice  in  the  blessings  of  a 
holiday  time  ! 

"  Work,  work,  work, 
Till  the  brain  begins  to  swim." 

seems  to  be  the  motto  of  the  race  to-day,  and  the 
wearied  spirit  finds  not  the  repose  it  needs  until  the 
hour  comes  which  casts  over  it  the  benison  of  an 
eternal  rest.  What  abject  folly !  What  utter  want 
of  sense  !  The  cry  of  Nature  echoes  everywhere 
through  her  numberless  retreats :  "  Come,  ye 
hungry  ones  ;  come  and  partake  of  the  feast  I 
spread  before  you.  Come,  ye  who  are  athirst,  and 
drink  of  the  fountain  of  perpetual  peace  ! "  And 
the  wayfarers  turn  a  deaf  ear,  and  pass  along  to 
their  early  graves,  wrapt  in  the  mantle  of  selfishness 
and  greed  of  gain,  allowing  no  ray  of  beauty  from 
the  light  above  to  penetrate  the  darkness  of  their 
souls.  Will  it  be  for  ever  thus,  and  will  men  always 
lose  their  way  in  the  journey  over  the  clearly 
marked  pathway  of  life  ?  I  think  not  so.  As  year 
by  year  rolls  on,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  content  will  be 
more  readily  found  ;  as  if  the  struggles  for  existence 
will  be  less  and  less  protracted ;  as  if  the  necessities 


MID-SUMMER   "HIGH  JINKS."  12$ 

of  life  will  be  more  readily  within  the  reach  of  all, 
and  the  glamour  of  gold  be  less  and  less  attractive 
to  men's  eyes  !  A  millenium  like  this  is  no  poet's 
dream  ;  it  needs  but  the  earnest  thought  and  work 
of  earnest  minds  in  every  civilized  land,  and  that 
perseverance  which,  while  it  urges  forward  a  good 
deed,  stimulates  by  its  influence  and  its  example. 
The  want  of  rest  and  healthy,  hopeful,  cheerful 
enjoyment  is  the  great  want  of  the  world  to-day,  and 
perhaps  in  this  country,  more  than  in  any  other,  is 
this  want  apparent.  It  is  the  evil  which  is  de 
stroying  the  lives  of  the  people, — the  cruel  cancer 
which  is  eating  at  their  very  vitals,  wasting  their 
energies,  and  poisoning  the  life-blood  of  the  race ! 
The  teacher  who  will  boldly  proclaim  this  truth,  and 
set  before  those  who  come  within  the  scope  of  his 
influence  the  foul  and  demoralizing  effect  of  this 
hideous  wrong,  will  earn  for  himself  not  only  a  death 
less  fame,  but  the  enduring  gratitude  of  the  ages. 

In  more  than  one  sense  it  is  "  good  for  us  to  be 
here."  If  we  cannot  claim  for  these  solitudes  the 
fame  of  classic  ground  ;  if  we  cannot  people  these 
leafy  glades  with  a  Rosalind  and  a  Touchstone;  if 
we  can  see  not  in  our  fancy  the  band  which  followed 
the  bold  outlaw,  Robin  Hood,  or  hear  Fitz-James's 
bugle  call,  we  yet  can  mark  around  us  upon  every 
side  the  changes  which  have  been  wrought  by  the 
mighty  convulsions  of  the  past,  and  in  the  spirit  of 
the  glorious  master,  learn  by  contemplation  to 

"  Find  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brooks, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing." 


126  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

To  myself,  this  occasion  is  fraught  with  the  deep 
est  interest,  for  I  feel  that  it  is  the  last  on  which  I 
may  meet  with  many  of  you,  at  least  under  circum 
stances  like  the  present,  and  it  seems  to  be  one  of 
those  special  passages  in  life  which  mark  a  sudden 
and  abiding  change,  as  the  milestones  which  pro 
claim  the  distances  in  life's  journey  appear  to  us  the 
more  rapidly  as  we  approach  its  close.  Nearly  six 
years  of  delightful  association  are  fast  drawing  to 
an  end,  and  the  curtain  is  about  to  descend  upon  the 
pleasant  pictures  of  the  past.  I  am  thankful  in  my 
own  heart  that  my  last  remembrance  of  our  many 
happy  gatherings  will  be  connected  with  this  lovely 
spot,  and  with  the  beauty  which  is  everywhere  around 
us.  This  experience  is  indeed  a  source  to  me  of  the 
deepest  gratification,  and  away  in  a  distant  home,  in 
the  years  that  are  to  come,  this  scene  will  often  re 
cur  to  my  memory,  enshrined  in  the  all-enfolding 
charm  which  belongs  to  the  vanished  hours.  I 
must,  however,  own,  that  in  the  midst  of  the  merri 
ment  which  I  trust  is  in  your  hearts  there  is  a  tone 
of  sweet  sadness  in  mine,  for  the  severance  of  ties 
which  have  bound  me  so  closely  to  you  all  cannot 
but  bring  with  it  a  sensation  of  sorrow,  and  the 
wrench  which  tears  me  from  the  association  which  I 
have  so  long  been  privileged  to  enjoy,  bears  its  own 
sense  of  pain.  I  cannot  but  remember,  also,  that 
since  we  first  met  together  and  founded  the  insti 
tution  which  has  in  so  short  a  time  become  one  of 
the  influential  societies  of  our  young  State,  many 


MID-SUMMER   "HIGH  JINKS."  12 / 

of  our  comrades  have  gone  down  in  the  battle  of 
life,  leaving  their  places  unoccupied,  and  only  the 
recollection  of  their  loving  hearts  to  comfort  and 
console.  As  those  who  have  laid  down  their  burdens 
and  gone  "  to  their  long  home  "  pass  in  shadowy  re 
view  before  me — you  see  with  me  the  ranks  as  they 
wander  by,  and  hear  the  murmur  of  their  unspoken 
voices — "  blessings  and  peace  to  all."  There  is  no 
need  to  breathe  their  names — they  will  dwell  in 
your  minds  for  aye,  for  they  were  linked  to  you  by 
bonds  which  even  the  bolt  of  the  destroyer  had  not 
power  to  shatter.  Nor  do  I  deem  it  idle  to  believe 
that  they  linger  near  us  to-night  full  of  the  enjoy 
ment  which  this  assemblage  brings — laughing  when 
we  laugh,  saddening  when  we  are  sad.  Oh,  no  !  for 
as  we  cast  ourselves,  as  we  do  to-night,  away  from 
the  grinding  cares  of  life,  and  with  the  tender  love 
of  children  approach  the  bosom  of  our  universal 
mother,  we  bring  nearer  and  ever  nearer  to  us  the 
life  which  is  beyond,  and  moving  within  the  sphere 
of  a  higher  influence,  summon  about  us  the  love,  the 
watchfulness,  and  the  deathless  affection  which  have 
"  gone  before." 


TRIFLES  LIGHT  AS  AIR." 

"  A  snapper-up  of  unconsidered  trifles." 

A   Winters  Tale. 


129 


TWO  BALLOON  VOYAGES. 


IN  the  year  1858,  the  well-known  Australian  man 
ager,  Mr.  George  Coppin,  among  the  many  other 
attractions  which  he  introduced  for  the  amusement 
of  the  good  people  of  "  the  colonies,"  imported 
two  large  balloons,  with  their  attendants,  Messrs. 
Dean  and  Brown,  two  experienced  aeronauts,  and 
after  some  rather  unsuccessful  attempts  in  Mel 
bourne,  sent  them  on  to  try  their  fortune  in  Sydney, 
in  which  city  I  was  then  residing.  A  considerable 
sum  of  money  had  been  expended  upon  the  specu 
lation,  and  at  one  time  it  appeared  as  if  a  very  heavy 
loss  would  be  entailed.  So  that  being  well  known 
in  the  New  South  Wales  capital,  and  prompted  by 
the  belief  that  the  confidence  which  had  been  some 
what  impaired  by  the  comparative  failure  of  the 
enterprise,  might  be  restored  if  a  satisfactory  ascent 
could  be  made,  the  incidents  of  which  could  be 
vouched  for  by  some  one  outside  those  more  im 
mediately  concerned,  I  voluntered  to  accompany  the 
aeronauts  upon  their  first  voyage.  Accordingly,  on 
the  iQth  of  December,  the  process  of  inflation  took 
place  in  the  lovely  domain  of  Sydney,  and  the  ar 
rangements  for  our  trip  were  completed.  An  im- 

131 


132  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

mense  concourse  of  spectators  was  present,  but  the 
provisions  for  keeping  the  crowd  from  the  immedi 
ate  vicinity  of  the  balloon  were  far  from  complete, 
and  during  the  swaying  of  the  huge  globe,  (the 
result  of  a  high  wind  blowing  at  the  time,)  a  large 
rent  was  caused  in  the  silk  by  a  looker-on  holding 
up  his  umbrella  to  shield  himself,  as  the  vast  mass 
turned  toward  the  spot  on  which  he  was  standing. 
This  allowed  the  gas  to  escape,  and  it  was,  for  a 
time,  feared  that  the  ascent  would  have  to  be  aban 
doned,  but  the  rent  was  soon  partially  repaired,  and 
more  gas  being  pressed  into  the  balloon,  the  aero 
naut,  Mr.  Brown,  entered  the  car,  I  followed  ;  we 
were  set  free,  and  shot  up  suddenly  to  a  height  of 
about  two  hundred  feet.  But  the  motive  power  was 
insufficient  to  carry  us  out  of  the  lower  stratum  of 
air,  and  although  the  ballast  was  thrown  out  almost 
to  the  emptying  of  the  car,  we  could  not  rise,  but 
were  carried  rapidly  by  the  wind  in  the  direction  of 
the  city.  In  our  course  we  struck  against  the  pin 
nacle  of  a  church  near  at  hand,  and  for  a  few  seconds, 
(for  all  this  occurred  in  the  space  of  less  than  a 
minute),  it  seemed  as  if  our  time  had  come.  Brown 
called  out  to  me,  "  Throw  every  thing  overboard."  I 
obeyed  his  instructions  by  pitching  out  first  our  lunch, 
basket  and  its  contents,  and  then  (from  what  im 
pulse  I  know  not)  my  coat,  overcoat,  waistcoat,  and 
hat.  A  large  crowd  had  followed  our  course,  talk 
ing  and  shouting  most  vociferously,  and  increasing 
the  excitement  by  their  half-frantic  gestures  and 


TWO  BALLOON   VOYAGES,  133 

tumultuous  cries.  Among  this  wild  human  mass 
my  garments  fell,  and  it  should  be  recorded  to  the 
credit  of  the  populace  of  Sydney  that  they  were  all 
honestly  cared  for,  and  with  my  gold  watch  which 
was  in  the  pocket  of  my  vest,  restored  to  me  "safe 
and  sound."  The  balloon  being  entirely  out  of  con 
trol,  was  dashed  hither  and  thither,  striking  against 
chimney  tops  and  other  projections,  rendering  it 
very  difficult  for  us,  even  by  clinging  to  the  rope,  to 
maintain  our  position  in  the  car,  until  in  crossing 
Macquarie  Street,  a  little  above  the  elevation  of  the 
tallest  houses,  the  grapnel,  which  had  been  thrown 
out  in  the  chance  of  fastening  somewhere,  caught  in 
a  window-sill,  the  ropes  we  sent  over  the  sides  were 
seized  by  willing  hands,  and  we  descended  in  safety. 
We  had  been,  as  we  afterward  learned,  only  seven 
minutes  in  the  air,  but  those  seven  minutes  seemed 
like  a  lifetime,  and  on  stepping  once  more  upon  terra 
firma,  I  realized  the  possibility  of  the  hair  turning 
suddenly  white  as  the  effect  of  an  extreme  mental 
strain.  Warm  hearts  and  kindly  words,  however, 
speedily  dispelled  our  terror,  and  we  were  soon  once 
more  amongst  our  friends. 

So  ended  my  first  balloon  voyage ;  and  looking 
back  upon  the  incident  over  a  lapse  of  years,  I  ap 
preciate  our  wonderful  escape,  and  am  thankful 
that  the  adventure,  though  it  could  but  be  regarded 
as  a  failure  of  the  end  in  view,  had  not  a  termina 
tion  more  painfully  terrible.  The  object  of  the  voy 
age,  however,  was  yet  unaccomplished,  and  another 


134  A    MINGLED     YARN. 

ascent  was  quietly  proposed,  of  which  no  notice  was 
to  be  given.  With  something  of  the  foolhardiness 
which  belongs  to  the  early  days  of  life,  I  deter 
mined  again  to  try  to  "  win  my  spurs,"  and  in  oppo 
sition  to  the  wishes  of  my  friends,  "  resolved  to  do 
or  die."  On  the  3Oth  of  the  month  the  balloon  was 
conveyed  to  a  secluded  part  of  the  Government 
Gardens,  and  there,  by  the  permission  of  Sir  Wm. 
Denison,  then  Governor  of  New  South  Wales,  it 
was  once  more  prepared  for  its  lofty  flight.  The 
day  was  such  as  is  only  to  be  found  in  this  lovely 
climate,  clear,  bright,  and  balmy,  and  at  about  a 
quarter-past  twelve,  accompanied  on  this  occasion 
by  Mr.  Dean,  I  entered  the  car,  the  cords  which 
held  us  to  the  earth  were  loosened,  and  amid  the 
shouts  of  the  excited  bystanders,  we  rose  slowly 
and  steadily  into  the  blue,  until  we  attained  the 
height  of  about  half  a  mile.  Here  our  speed  was 
greatly  and  suddenly  increased  by  coming  in  con 
tact  with  the  upper  portion  of  the  current  of  air 
by  which  we  were  carried  on  our  course.  In  a 
few  minutes  we  found  ourselves  immediately  over 
the  prison  at  Cockatoo  Island,  about  two  miles  in  a 
straight  line  from  the  place  of  our  start,  and  here  all 
motion  seemed  to  cease,  and  for  upwards  of  a  quar 
ter  of  an  hour  we  were  almost  stationary.  After 
hearing  from  my  companion  that  we  were  all  right, 
and  exchanging  with  him  a  hearty  shake  of  the 
hand,  I  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  car,  and  gazed, 
not  without  a  feeling  of  awe  and  wonder,  upon  the 


TWO  BALLOON   VOYAGES.  135 

scene  around  and  beneath  me.  Pen  and  tongue 
utterly  fail  to  do  justice  to  the  sublime  spectacle. 
Long  as  I  had  been  impressed  with  the  beauty  of 
Sydney,  and  more  especially  of  the  harbor  of  Port 
Jackson,  I  found  that  until  then  I  knew  nothing  of 
the  magnificence  of  this  queen  of  the  Southern 
Hemisphere.  The  city  itself,  with  its  many  little 
points  running  out  into  the  bay,  each  one  dotted 
with  buildings,  looked  like  a  miniature  Sebastopol, 
and  though  its  streets  for  us  no  longer  bore  the  signs 
of  their  usual  stir  and  bustle;  though  the  forms  of 
those  whose  eager  eyes  had  watched  us  from  beneath 
had  faded  from  our  view,  and  the  cabs  and  other 
vehicles  which  give  so  much  animation  to  a  city, 
wore  the  aspect  of  flies  of  different  orders  and 
genera,  the  hum  of  thousand  voices  and  thousand 
sounds  fell  softly  upon  the  ear,  and  told  us  that  we 
were  yet  within  the  region  of  our  fellow-men.  Ris 
ing,  however,  more  and  more  rapidly,  until  we  at 
tained  our  greatest  altitude,  that  of  about  two 
miles,  those  sounds  gradually  ceased,  and  the  most 
death-like  and  solemn  silence  prevailed.  So  pro 
found  indeed  was  it,  and  so  rarefied  the  condition  of 
the  atmosphere,  that  the  pulsation  of  my  own  heart 
could  be  distinctly  heard;  the  opening  and  shutting 
of  the  valve  sounded  like  a  pistol-shot;  and  the  flirt 
ing  of  the  balloon  like  the  flapping  of  a  ship's  sail 
in  a  gale  of  wind. 

"  Far,  far  below  the  chariot's  path, 
Calm  as  a  slumbering  babe, 
Tremendous  Ocean  lay, 


136  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

while  immediately  beneath  our  track  were  spread, 
like  a  net-work,  the  countless  creeks,  inlets,  and  bays 
of  the  beautiful  harbor,  and  far  off  in  the  northern 
distance  we  could  discern  the  waters  of  the  Hawkes- 
bury,  in  their  junction  with  Broken  Bay.  To  the 
eastward  the  North  and  South  heads  appeared  like 
small  projecting  fragments  of  rock,  and  the  "  waste 
of  waters  "  beyond  seem  to  mingle  with  and  lose  it 
self  in  the  clouds.  Shark,  Clark,  and  Garden  islands 
were  but  little  patches  smaller  than  one's  hand,  and 
the  many  sandy  beaches  of  the  bay  like  strips  of  the 
whitest  calico.  The  vessels  at  anchor  were  many  of 
them  soon  lost  to  view,  and  when  I  last  saw  her,  the 
"  European  "  steamship  looked  no  larger  than  the 
plaything  of  a  child.  The  almost  interminable  for 
ests  of  gum-trees  trending  toward  the  north  of  Mid 
dle  Harbor,  the  stretch  of  orchards  of  oranges  and 
vines  with  which  the  country  toward  Paramatta  is 
studded,  dotted  here  and  there  with  pretty  cottages, 
rising  up  among  them  like  daisies  upon  a  green 
sward,  the  magnificent  reach  of  undulating  land  to 
the  base  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  the  grand  sight  of 
the  cliffs  toward  Botany,  and  of  that  bay  itself, — all 
this  must  be  left  to  the  imagination  of  those  less 
fortunate  than  myself,  as  any  attempt  at  description 
must  utterly  fail. 

We  experienced  several  trifling  changes  of  cur 
rent,  and  at  one  time  our  course  was  directed  toward 
Broken  Bay — a  fact  which  excited  in  my  mind  my 
only  uncomfortable  feeling,  as  nothing  seemed  to 


TWO  BALLOON    VOYAGES.  137 

await  us,  but  the  chance  of  a  descent  in  an  almost 
uninhabited  district,  and  a  prospect  of  lodging  be 
neath  the  trunk  of  an  ancestral  gum-tree.  I  was  all 
the  more  anxious,  as  it  was  a  part  of  my  duty  to 
support  Mr.  G.V.Brooke  in  "  Love's  Sacrifice"  the 
same  evening  at  the  Prince  of  Wales  Theatre,  and 
an  early  return  to  Sydney  was  among  my  calcula 
tions  when  I  started  upon  the  trip.  After  reaching 
the  greatest  elevation  (before  alluded  to  as  that  of 
about  two  miles),  we  had  gradually  descended  until 
the  various  objects  on  earth  could  be  clearly  dis 
tinguished,  and  in  the  direction  in  which  we  were 
carried  by  the  wind,  we  could  discern  some  open 
patches  of  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paramatta, 
in  one  of  which  we  hoped  to  make  our  landing. 
The  grapnel  was  thrown  over,  the  ropes  loosened, 
the  valve  opened  to  allow  the  escape  of  the  gas,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  we  descended  in  an  orchard  at 
Kissing  Point,  near  the  banks  of  the  Paramatta 
River.  The  car  struck  the  ground  with  considerable 
force,  rebounded,  struck  again,  and  the  second  time 
the  grapnel  caught  in  the  branches  of  an  apple  tree, 
and  with  a  few  trifling  bruises,  and  some  damage  to 
our  clothes,  we  were  enabled  to  alight.  The  huge 
machine  was  emptied  of  its  contents,  folded,  and 
placed  in  the  car,  and  by  the  kindness  of  the  many 
people  who  had  assembled  to  our  assistance,  it  was 
conveyed  to  the  river's  bank,  and  placed  on  board 
one  of  the  steamers  plying  between  Sydney  and 
Paramatta.  We  reached  the  city  about  seven 


138  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

o'clock,  and  before  eight,  I  was  dressed  for  "  Eugene 
de  Lorme,"  and  was  recounting  to  a  generous  and 
partial  audience  in  the  greenroom,  my  adventures 
of  the  day.  We  had  travelled  about  nine  and  a  half 
miles  in  a  base  line,  nearly  twenty-two,  allowing  for 
the  variations  in  our  course,  and  were  in  the  air  a 
little  over  fifty  minutes.  There  is  no  sensation  of  a 
disagreeable  nature  in  ascending  in  a  balloon,  as  the 
occupant  of  the  car  appears  to  be  perfectly  station 
ary,  and  the  earth  and  all  upon  it  seem  to  be  sink 
ing  away  from  him.  The  temperature  was  purer 
and  more  exhilarating  than  any  I  ever  before  en 
joyed  ;  all  sense  of  fear  was  lost  in  the  contempla 
tion  of  the  majesty  around  me  ;  and  beyond  a  pain 
in  the  ears,  which  seized  me  at  our  greatest  altitude, 
and  which  lasted  but  for  a  few  minutes,  I  did  not 
experience  the  slightest  feeling  of  annoyance. 


THE  CHURCH  AND  THE  STAGE. 


A    LETTER    ADDRESSED    TO    THE    REV  D    JOS.    BEASLEY,  OF 

SYDNEY,    N.    S.    WALES,    IN    REPLY    TO    A    SERMON 

ATTACKING    THE    DRAMATIC    PROFESSION, 

DELIVERED    JULY     25,    1859. 

REVEREND  SIR: — You  last  night  delivered  a  lec 
ture  at  Temperance  Hall,  on  the  subject  of  "  Popular 
Amusements,"  in  the  course  of  which  you  took 
occasion  to  declaim  against  theatrical  representa 
tions,  as  being  dangerous  to  public  morals  and 
inimical  to  the  best  interests  of  society.  Of  course 
you  are  entitled  to  your  own  individual  opinion 
upon  such  a  matter  as  this ;  and  however  narrow- 
minded  I,  as  an  actor,  may  think  that  opinion,  I  should 
not  thus  publicly  have  ventured  to  address  you, 
had  you  been  a  little  more  cautious  in  other  of  your 
remarks  upon  that  profession  to  which  I  have  the 
honor  to  belong.  But,  sir,  you  have  not  only  uttered 
bigoted  views  with  regard  to  what  has  always,  even 
in  the  more  remote  ages  of  the  world,  been  the  most 
popular  means  of  conveying  amusement,  blended 
with  instruction  of  a  lofty  and  refined  character  ; 
but  by  saying  that  "  the  performers  of  stage  plays 
were  frequently  of  doubtful  virtue/'  you  have 

139 


A  MINGLED   YARN. 

cast  a  slur  upon  the  character  of  a  body  of  persons 
whose  reputations  are  as  valuable  as  your  own,  and 
offered  a  gratuitous  insult  to  a  large  and  influential 
class,  who,  from  the  very  nature  of  their  profession 
(engrossing  as  it  does  so  much  time  and  attention), 
are  never  anxious  to  be  drawn  into  prominence  in 
other  ways  than  in  the  exercise  of  their  legitimate 
calling. 

There  has  been  of  late  existing  in  this  city  a  strong 
feeling  on  the  part  of  ministers  of  various  religious 
denominations  against  the  theatrical  profession,  and 
I  have  been  told  that  these  self-styled  Christians 
have  frequently  denounced  from  their  pulpits,  the 
stage,  its  followers  and  its  supporters.  These  dis 
plays  of  priestly  eloquence  and  priestly  charity, 
have  been  passed  over,  partly  from  a  desire  on  the 
part  of  the  dramatic  profession  generally  to  abstain 
from  discusssion  on  a  subject  so  nearly  affecting 
themselves,  and  partly  from  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  difficult  to  found  any  controversy  upon  words 
uttered  "  viva  voce,"  as  they  may  by  chance  be 
wrongly  quoted,  or  subjected  to  a  false  interpreta 
tion. 

But,  sir,  your  address  of  last  night  is  now  public 
property,  and  I  claim  the  right  to  express  my  views 
upon  the  sentiments  it  contains.  Your  objections 
to  the  theatres  are  :  "  The  number  of  public  houses 
and  houses  of  ill-fame  which  spring  up  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  theatres ;  of  the  performers  being  fre 
quently  of  doubtful  virtue ;  of  the  lighter  portion  of 


THE   CHURCH  AND    THE   STAGE.  l^\ 

the  community,  those  who  felt  the  importance  of 
divine  things  the  least,  being  the  principal  support 
ers  of  the  theatre."  On  the  strength  of  these  asser 
tions,  you  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  theatrical  rep 
resentations  are  wrong,  and  hurtful  in  their  ten 
dency.  I  shall  ask  your  patience  while  I  consider 
these  objections  in  the  light  in  which  they  appear 
to  me. 

And  first,  I  must  observe  that  you  have  no  founda 
tion  on  which  to  build  your  statement  that  houses 
of  ill-fame  spring  up  in  the  neighborhood  of  theatres. 
There  are  at  this  moment  two  theatres  open  in 
Sydney,  both  of  them,  as  regards  their  external  ap 
pearance,  creditable  buildings.  They  are  situated 
in  two  of  the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  and  I 
challenge  you  to  point  out  any  of  the  houses  of  the 
character  to  which  you  allude,  in  their  vicinity. 
That  public-houses  spring  up  near  theatres  is  true, 
but  does  not  the  same  thing  occur  near  our  police- 
courts,  our  markets,  our  custom-houses,  our  wharves, 
and  all  other  places  in  which  large  concourses  of 
people  are  daily  gathered  ?  And  even  admitting 
such  to  be  the  case,  what  has  this  to  do  with  theatri 
cal  entertainments,  except  as  a  secondary  conse 
quence  ?  The  houses  used  as  taverns  are  licensed 
by  the  Government,  and  are  under  the  continued 
surveillance  of  the  police,  and  the  evils  of  such  (if 
any  exist)  are  not  arising  out  of  the  establishment 
of  the  theatres,  but  from  a  proper  want  of  attention 
on  the  part  of  the  authorities.  Surely,  sir,  you  will 


I42  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

admit  that  around  all  institutions  which  are  under 
the  control  of  erring  humanity,  some  symptoms  of 
the  imperfections  of  our  nature  must  arise,  and  I 
think  you  will  scarcely  deny  that  even  the  free  and 
elevating  teachings  of  Christianity  itself  are  somewhat 
altered  from  the  form  and  spirit  in  which  they  ex 
isted  in  the  mind  of  their  Divine  Author;  and  I 
boldly  contend  that  the  evils  which  spring  up  in 
directly  from  large  numbers  of  persons  being  brought 
together  in  theatres  are  no  more  chargeable  to  the 
dramatic  art  itself,  than  are  the  corrupt  doings  of 
some  who  "  call  themselves  Christians  "  to  be  laid 
at  the  door  of  the  faith  enunciated  by  Him  who  said: 
"  Thou  hypocrite,  first  cast  out  the  beam  out  of  thine 
own  eye,  then  thou  shalt  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the 
mote  out  of  thy  brother's  eye  !  " 

Your  second  objection  is  one  of  a  more  personal 
character;  and  I  can  but  say,  is  strongly  at  variance 
with  the  statement  at  the  commencement  of  your 
lecture,  to  the  effect  that  you  were  about  to  treat  the 
subject  before  you  as  a  man,  an  Englishman,  and 
a  gentleman.  Let  me  ask  you,  "  Are  you  personally 
acquainted  with  any  members  of  my  profession  ?  "  I 
I  assume  you  are  not,  and  if  you  are  not,  it  is,  at  the 
least,  unmanly  to  say  any  thing  against  them  on  mere 
hearsay,  and  if  unmanly,  it  is  un-English  and  ungen- 
tlemanly  too.  If  you  are  known  to  any  of  the 
followers  of  "the  mimic  art,"  you  cannot  think 
them,  if  you  judge  aright,  worse  than  others  of  their 
species,  and  I  shall  not  be  charged  by  many  who 


THE   CHURCH  AND    THE   STAGE.  143 

know  them  best,  with  exaggeration,  when  I  say, 
that  as  a  distinct  class  there  are  few  so  thoroughly 
free  from  the  vices  which  commonly  beset  society. 
I  am  not  aware,  sir,  whether  you  are  cognizant  of 
the  fact,  but  to  the  best  of  my  belief  there  is  no 
record  in  the  Statute-Book  of  any  one  member  of 
the  theatrical  profession  ever  having  been  convicted 
of  a  capital  offence,  and  the  statistics  of  crime,  both 
in  the  mother-country  and  here,  will  incontestably 
prove,  that  large  as  are  their  numbers,  actors  and 
actresses  are  very  rarely  charged,  much  less  con 
victed  of  any  offence  against  the  laws  of  their  coun 
try.  Can  you  say  as  much  for  your  own  class? 
No,  you  cannot.  I  would  wish  to  avoid  as  much  as 
possible  all  personalities,  but  you  have  commenced 
them  ;  and  "  people  who  live  in  glass  houses," — you 
know  the  rest.  I  venture  to  assert  that  for  one 
member  of  my  profession  who  has  during  any  given 
time,  say  the  last  half  century,  figured  in  our  courts 
of  justice,  there  have  been  at  least  six  or  seven  of 
your  own  calling.  This  is  a  bold  statement,  sir, 
but  it  can  be  established  by  proof. 

You  may  have  heard — for  I  question  much  if  you 
can  speak  of  us  by  your  own  knowledge, — you  "  may 
have  heard,"  I  say,  that  actors  have  been,  at  times, 
too  much  given  to  habits  of  inebriety;  and  that  act 
resses  have  been  known  to  desert  their  husbands  and 
form  other  connections,  or,  perhaps,  that  they  have 
chosen,  from  motives  best  known  to  themselves,  to  en 
ter  virtually  upon  the  state  of  married  life  without  re- 


144  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

garding  the  forms  imposed  upon  that  state  by  the  laws 
of  our  existing  society.  You  may  have  heard  all  this, 
and  it  may  be  true.  But  have  you  ever  given  your 
self  the  trouble  to  think,  that  as  public  men  and 
women  who  are  constantly  before  the  gaze  of  thou 
sands,  their  actions  are  easily  made  patent  to  the 
world,  and  that  the  faults  to  be  laid  to  their  charge 
are  not  only  liable  to  great  exaggeration,  but  that, 
if  they  were  committed  by  other  classes  of  people, 
the  knowledge  of  them  would  be  confined  to  a  few, 
and  society  at  large  would  be  quite  ignorant  of  them  ? 
This  is  a  point  of  view  from  which  I  think  you 
should  regard  the  question  of  the  "  doubtful  virtue" 
of  stage  performers.  I  say  again  and  again — and  I 
challenge  contradiction  of  the  assertion — that  actors 
and  actresses  generally  are  more  free  from  the  vices 
which  beset  and  degrade  humanity  than  any 
other  class  of  the  same  numbers  and  importance  in 
the  social  scale.  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  understood 
that  I  think  them  free  from  faults,  and  that  they 
have  no  errors  to  be  laid  to  their  charge ;  but  I  do 
say,  that  from  the  very  nature  of  their  profession, 
they  are  so  compelled  to  cultivate  the  habit  of  con 
centrating  all  their  mental  force  upon  one  given 
subject,  so  inevitably  bound  to  nurse  and  foster  the 
gift  of  memory,  and  so  much  occupied  with  regard 
to  their  time  in  the  study  of  their  art,  that  by  the 
constant  exercise  of  the  higher  faculties  of  the 
mind  which  are  brought  into  continuous  and 
harmonious  action  by  such  study,  the  lower  qualities 


THE   CHURCH  AND    THE   STAGE.  145 

of  their  nature  are  kept  in  abeyance,  and  are  not 
suffered  to  put  forth  their  baneful  fruits,  which, 
under  evil  influences,  too  frequently  appear  to  con 
taminate  and  poison  society.  "Doubtful  virtue," 
forsooth  !  I  am  half  inclined  to  laugh  at  a  phrase 
which  bears  so  plainly  on  its  surface  the  marks  of 
bigotry,  intolerance,  and  ignorance.  But  the  conse 
quence  of  such  statements  as  those  which  you  have 
made  cannot  be  so  lightly  passed  over.  I  know  that 
error  must  eventually  give  way  before  the  light  of 
truth,  and  that  sentiments  like  those  which  you  have 
enunciated  must  soon  be  lost  in  the  great  vortex  of 
civilization ;  but  I  feel,  and  I  feel  warmly,  for  hun 
dreds  of  honest,  upright,  noble-hearted  men — and 
still  more  for  many  gentle,  excellent,  accomplished 
women, — who  can  but  experience  the  pangs  which 
must  naturally  arise  from  the  outrage  offered  to  their 
feelings  by  statements  like  your  own,  and  placing 
myself  thus  prominently  forward  to  do  battle  for  the 
wrongs  which  have  been  so  wantonly  heaped  upon 
the  class  to  which  I  belong,  I  am  actuated  solely 
by  a  love  of  truth,  and  a  conscientious  desire  to  do 
justice  to  those  to  whom,  by  the  intolerance  of  many 
persons  of  confined  and  sectarian  views,  it  has  been 
ruthlessly  and  uncharitably  denied.  I  ask  you,  sir, 
as  a  Christian  minister,  to  reconsider  what  you  have 
said,  and  what  has  gone  before  the  world,  and  when 
you  are  again  about  to  put  forth  your  views  with 
regard  to  the  character  and  conduct  of  your  fellow- 
mortals,  to  pause  for  a  moment  and  reflect  upon  the 


146  A    MINGLED    YARN. 

saying  of  Him,  whose  faith  you  profess  to  teach — 
whose  rules  of  life  you  profess  to  follow, — "  Let  him 
that  is  without  sin  cast  the  first  stone." 

With  regard  to  your  third  objection,  viz.:  "That 
theatres  are  principally  supported  by  those  who  feel 
the  importance  of  divine  things  the  least,"  I  shall  say 
but  little.  Perhaps  you  and  I  may  differ  in  our  views 
as  to  what  may  be  the  proper  manner  in  which  the 
importance  of  divine  things  may  be  felt ;  but  it  cer 
tainly  appears  to  me  that  the  amusement  which  has 
for  ages  secured  the  approbation  of  the  great  and  good 
of  every  country  and  people,  has  not  been  permitted 
by  the  Great  Author  of  divine  things  himself  to  exist 
so  long  as  it  has  done,  and  the  love  for  such  amuse 
ments  to  be  regarded  as  a  natural  craving  of  the  human 
heart,  without  exerting  some  beneficial  tendency ; 
and  when,  not  to  wander  from  home,  I  see  the  great 
mass  of  visitors  to  theatrical  representations  in  Syd 
ney,  composed  of  the  most  respectable  and  influential 
inhabitants  of  the  city,  I  humbly  confess  1  am  glad 
to  have  my  views  in  the  matter  endorsed  by  so 
many  respectable  persons,  and  am  content  to  follow 
in  their  wake  as  to  the  importance  of  "  divine  things." 

In  your  lecture  you  stated  that  you  had  never 
until  last  week  attended  an  oratorio,  much  less  is 
it  possible  you  can  have  been  within  the  precincts 
of  a  theatre.  Shall  I  be  deemed  impertinent  if  I 
advise  you  to  go  and  see  for  yourself  what  thea 
tres  are  like?  I  trust  I  shall  not,  for  I  feel  that 
a  few  visits  to  a  respectable  theatre  would,  if  you 


THE    CHURCH  AND    THE   STAGE.  Itf 

went  with  an  unbiassed  mind,  change  the  tone  of 
your  opinions  with  regard  to  the  amusements  pre 
sented  there.  But  if  you  will  not  go,  then  be  as 
sured  that  attacks  upon  the  stage  and  its  professors, 
made  by  yourself  and  persons  holding  opinions  in 
harmony  with  your  own,  will  avail  but  little,  and  in 
the  waste  of  your  mental  strength  you  will  make  no 
more  progress  among  the  hearts  of  society  with  your 
dogmas,  than  did  Sisyphus  of  old  with  the  stone  up 
the  mountain  side. 

A  few  words  more  and  I  have  done ;  I  have  not 
sought  this  quarrel  with  you  ;  I  know  you  not,  and 
toward  you  individually  I  have  no  ill-feeling.  It  is 
against  your  opinions  that  I  have  taken  my  stand ; 
and  though  I  trust  I  may  never  again  be  placed  in 
a  position  to  call  forth  any  remarks  of  mine  on  the 
subject  of  this  letter,  be  assured  I  shall  not  shrink 
if  the  time  and  occasion  should  arrive,  but  shall  be 
ever  on  the  watch  to  do  battle  for  that  art  of  which  I 
am  an  humble  follower,  and  for  those  who,  like  my 
self,  are  anxious  to  see  it  placed  in  the  position 
which  it  ought  to  hold  amongst  the  instructive 
and  elevating  influences  which  aid  and  direct  the 
progress  of  the  human  mind. 


AGASSIZ. 

DIED  Dec.  14,  1873. 

"  Oh!  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
When  Science  self  destroyed  her  favorite  son." 

From  a  seat  of  learning  in  the  North  has  gone 
forth  a  wail  of  sorrow,  a  wail  which  echoes  not  only 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  own  land, 
but  in  every  place  in  which  refinement  and  culture 
have  found  a  home,  and  which  will  thrill  for  years 
to  come  in  many  a  heart  at  the  mention  of  the  name 
of  the  departed.  Agassiz  is  dead.  The  mighty 
brain  in  which  grand  thoughts  were  kindled  is,  as 
far  as  our  earth  is  concerned,  at  rest  forever ;  the 
smile  which  ever  shone  on  modest  merit  beams  for 
us  no  more;  the  kind  and  gentle  voice  which  spoke 
in  earnest  sympathy  with  even  the  meanest  en 
deavor,  is  hushed  and  still,  and  memory  is  all  that  is 
left  us  of  one  so  loved.  To  speak  in  praise  of  his 
vast  acquirements  would  be  but 

"  To  guard  a  title  that  was  rich  before." 

The  history  of  his  adopted  country  will  inscribe 
them  on  its  brightest  pages,  and  his  works  will  be 
forever  cherished  amid  the  records  of  the  nation. 
But  apart  from  the  homage  which  the  worshippers 

148 


AGASSIZ.  149 

of  his  genius  will  surely  lay  before  its  shrine, — apart 
from  the  consideration  of  the  labors  which  have 
rendered  him  immortal,  and  enrolled  his  name 
among  the  deathless  few, — there  steals  into  the 
thought  the  recollection  of  that  tender  and  gentle 
nature  which  was  so  magnetic  in  its  association,  and 
which  shed  so  pleasing  an  influence  upon  all  who 
came  within  its  contact.  Involved  in  his  own  cher 
ished  pursuits,  he  scorned  the  mean  pretences  of  the 
world,  and  being,  as  he  himself  declared,  "Too  busy 
to  make  money,"  he  was  utterly  free  from  the  taint 
of  selfishness,  and  lived  less  for  his  own  advance 
ment  than  for  the  good  of  others,  preferring  the 
calm  enjoyment  of  a  studious  and  retiring  life  to  the 
tinsel  glories  of  wealth  and  display.  Mindful  of 
the  difficulties  which  beset  the  student  of  science, 
and  well  knowing  how  willingly  the  world  will  sneer 
at  what  it  cannot  comprehend,  his  hand  was  ever 
extended  to  help  the  seeker  after  truth,  and  to 
place  his  feet  upon  a  firm  foundation.  A  father 
among  the  young,  a  brother  among  the  mature,  and 
a  kind  and  gentle  friend  to  all,  the  name  of  Agassiz 
will  be  loved  as  his  genius  is  honored,  and  his  child 
like  nature  cherished  as  his  mental  powers  are  valued 
and  esteemed.  Above  the  earth  which  covers  his 
remains  will  be  mingled  the  bitter  regrets  for  the 
loss  of  one  so  gifted,  and  the  sighs  of  sympathy  for 
those  who  will  miss  the  communion  of  a  loving 
heart.  As  on  and  on  we  journey  toward  the  end, 
the  pathway  of  our  life  is  strewn  with  sorrowing 


A   MINGLED    YARN, 

memories;  but  the  blossoms  of  existence  diffuse 
their  fragrance  by  the  wayside,  and  teach  us  that 
all  is  not  sad  for  those  who  mourn.  The  incense  of 
good  deeds  ascends  to  Heaven,  and  the  place  which 
so  glorious  a  soul  as  his  filled  on  earth,  becomes  a 
monument  for  after-time,  and  points  to  the  genera 
tions  which  follow  the  shining  remembrance  of  his 
power.  For  over  fourteen  years  the  writer  has  held 
pleasant  intercourse  with  him,  has  profited  by  the 
varied  store  of  knowledge  he  was  ever  so  ready  to 
impart,  and  with  a  saddened  soul  would  add  this 
poor  tributary  leaf  to  the  garlands  which  will  deck 
his  tomb.  He  is  but  one  among  the  many  who 
have  felt  the  friendly  interest  which  Agassiz  was 
wont  to  display  to  all  who  needed  the  help  of  such 
a  teacher,  and  who,  in  the  years  to  come,  will  sigh 

"  For  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still." 


MAJOR  HARRY  LARKYNS. 

The  melancholy  circumstances  surrounding  the 
death  of  Major  Larkyns,  which  took  place  in  Octo 
ber,  1874,  are  so  fresh  in  the  recollection  as  to  need 
no  further  mention  here.  But  the  present  oppor 
tunity  is  taken  advantage  of  to  allude  to  his  great 
abilities,  and  to  regret  that  the  influences  about  him 
were  such  as  to  fetter  their  fullest  action,  and  to  pre 
vent  him  from  adorning  more  distinctly  the  walk  of 
life  in  which  he  moved.  Poverty  always  hung  like  a 
gaunt  spectre  about  his  footsteps,  and  the  generous 
fountains  of  his  nature  were  dried  up  by  her  touch. 
He  walked  among  men  as  if  they  knew  him  not,  and 
it  was  only  the  few  who  were  admitted  to  a  close  in 
timacy  with  him  who  felt  the  warmth  of  that  heart 
which  showed  its  secrets  but  so  rarely.  He  was  an 
admirable  linguist,  familiar  with  the  literature  of  most 
continental  nations, — a  brilliant  writer,  to  whom  no 
theme  appeared  to  come  amiss, — a  musician  of  cult 
ure, — an  artist  of  refined  and  polished  taste, — and, 
as  a  conversationalist  rarely  excelled.  Beyond  all 
these,  he  was  a  warm  and  true  friend,  and  where  his 
sympathies  were  aroused,  his  generosity  led  him  of 
ten  far  beyond  the  bounds  of  prudence.  Many  a 
story  of  his  kindness  to  those  in  want  is  well  known 
to  his  associates,  and  the  recollection  of  his  unselfish 


IS2  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

character  is  with  them  a  sacred  memory.  He  was 
followed  to  the  grave  by  many  who  knew  and  loved 
him,  and  whose  appreciation  of  his  worth  was  evident 
by  the  depth  of  their  sorrow.  At  the  close  of  the 
religious  ceremonies,  the  following  remarks  were 
made : 

Friends  : — I  little  thought  when,  less  than  three 
weeks  ago,  I  clasped  hands  with  him  and  bade  him 
God-speed  upon  the  work  he  had  just  undertaken, 
that  I  should  so  soon  have  been  called  upon  to  stand 
beside  the  dead  body  of  Harry  Larkyns  and  pay  this 
last  sad  tribute  to  his  memory.  And  I  know  that 
in  a  moment  like  the  present  I  may  claim  and  re 
ceive  the  sympathy  of  those  around  me,  for  here  are 
gathered  those  who  loved  him  well,  and  to  whom  my 
poor  words  can  convey  but  little  meaning.  Still  it  is 
good  to  be  here.  It  is  good  for  us  to  linger  for  a  mo 
ment  about  his  remains,  and  from  the  grave  which 
soon  will  cover  them  to  pluck  a  blade  of  memory, 
greener  than  the  grass;  to  weave  it  into  a  chapletof 
sorrow  lighter  than  the  air ;  to  waft  it  upon  the  current 
of  our  sympathy  over  land  and  sea  to  the  home  of 
his  birth,  and  laying  it  with  the  tenderness  of  our 
pity  at  the  feet  of  the  mourning  ones  who  loved  and 
cherished  him,  say,  in  all  the  grand  fraternal  feeling 
of  sorrow  :  "  Though  you  were  absent  he  was  not 
alone,  for  man's  grief  and  woman's  tears  attended 
him  to  the  last,  and  he  sleeps  in  peace,  for  gentle 
and  loving  hands  have  laid  him  in  his  grave."  Of  him 
who  now  lies  cold  and  still  before  us  what  shall  we  say  ? 


MAJOR  HARRY  LARKYNS.  153 

We  who  knew  him  best,  knew  well  the  struggle  of 
his  life,  the  torments  he  endured,  the  wearying  con 
flict  of  his  one  poor  heart  against  a  world  of  selfish, 
pitiless  pride  ;  a  pride  so  pitiless  that  a  single  tone 
of  manly  friendship  or  a  word  of  womanly  sympa 
thy  came  to  him  like  an  echo  of  the  voices  which  he 
heard  in  childhood, — voices  which  he  longed  again 
to  hear,  but  which  he  resolved  never  more  to  listen 
to  until  the  thorny  path  which  misfortune  had 
placed  before  him  had  been  cleared  by  the  energy 
of  his  own  endeavor,  and  he  could  stand  proudly  be 
fore  those  loved  ones  of  an  earlier  time  and  say :  "  I 
bring  you  back  the  honor  you  bestowed  upon  me, 
unstained  as  when  it  left  your  hands,  and  claim,  in 
common  justice  to  my  nature,  a  full  oblivion  of  the 
past."  He  was  a  gentleman  in  the  truest  sense  of 
the  word.  Upon  his  lips  the  breath  "of  slander  never 
lived,  the  cruelty  of  corrupting  tongues  never 
found  a  home  ;  vulgarity  of  every  kind  was  a  perfect 
stranger  to  his  soul,  and  in  the  retrospect  of  his  own 
sorrows  he  knew  how  to  find  excuses  for  the  follies 
of  his  fellow-men,  and  to  cover  with  the  mantle  of 
charity  those  errors  which  the  world  too  often  black 
ens  with  the  name  of  crime.  A  soldier  by  profession, 
distinguished  upon  the  battle-field,  the  grandest  and 
most  heroic  struggles  of  his  life  were  the  hand-to- 
hand  conflicts  which  he  waged  against  those  who  re 
viled  him  here  and  who  were  far  beneath  him  in  every 
point  of  manliness  and  truth  and  honor.  And  now 
that  he  is  dead,  let  those  detractors  know,  that  no 


154  A   MINGLED    YARN. 

mother's  tender  hand  ever  smoothed  his  head,  no  fa 
ther's  gentle  voice  ever  offered  him  counsel.  Those 
natural  protectors  and  advisers  were  snatched  from 
him  at  so  early  an  age  that  his  memory  of  them  was 
but  a  faded  recollection.  Deprived  of  their  care  and 
protection  he  had  to  fight  the  battle  of  his  life  alone. 
How  nobly  he  struggled,  how  grandly  he  toiled,  we, 
who  knew  his  sacrificing  heroism  can  testify,  and  the 
number  of  those  who  loved  and  honored  him,  and 
who  are  to-day  gathered  in  the  depth  of  sorrow 
around  his  poor  remains,  will  be  the  best  evidence  of 
the  affection  he  inspired,  and  of  the  regrets  at  his 
unhappy  death  which  are  now  breathed  above  his 
tomb. 

And  now,  gentle  and  loving  friend  and  brother, 
farewell !  The  blessing  of  eternal  rest  has  fallen 
upon  your  soul  !  Is  it  too  much  to  hope  that  in  your 
home  of  peaceful  calm,  your  spirit  now  hears  the 
words  of  the  friend  who  loved  you  well,  and  still 
more  the  unspoken  sorrow  of  those  who  stand  around 
your  bier,  and  that  their  love  and  regard  may  testify 
to  you  how  bitter  is  their  grief  at  their  untimely  loss, 
and  how  deep  the  affection  with  which  they  will 
cherish  your  memory  in  the  years  which  are  yet  to 
come  ? 


WILLIAM    BARRY, 

COMEDIAN    OF    THE  CALIFORNIA  THEATRE,    DIED 
JANUARY    2,    1875. 

Amid  the  various  scenes  of  which  the  drama  of 
this  our  life  is  composed,  sadness  and  sorrow  have 
oftentimes  a  place,  and  the  mask  of  revelry  and  glad 
ness  frequently  hides  a  face  which,  when  stripped  of 
its  covering,  wears  an  aspect  of  the  deepest  gloom. 
Gathered  close  around  the  body  of  him  whose  soul 
was  consecrated  to  mirth  we  feel  how  intimately  in  our 
existence  the  serious  and  the  grotesque,  the  pathetic 
and  the  ludicrous  are  blended  together,  and  we,  who 
only  a  few  evenings  since  laughed  with  delight  at  the 
sallies  of  his  wit,  are  now  come  to  weep  above  his 
coffin.  The  grave  which  he  has  so  often  dug  in  sport 
for  the  reception  of  a  mimic  corpse,  has  now  in  truth 
been  opened  for  him,  and  the  cold  clods  of  earth 
must  soon  cover  his  remains.  His  taking  off  has 
been  most  sudden  and  warningless,  and  passing  away 
alone,  with  no  friend  near  to  close  his  eyes  and  whis 
per  a  word  of  loving  comfort,  the  shock  of  his  hasty 
death  has  fallen  with  a  withering  blight  upon  the 
hearts  of  his  associates,  who  only  a  few  evenings 
since  saw  him  in  apparently  vigorous  health.  But 
even  in  this  somewhat  unheralded  departure  there  is 

155 


156  A  MINGLED   YARN. 

consolation.  He  writhed  under  no  pain,  he  suffered 
not  from  any  mental  torture,  but  passed  away  peace 
fully,  as  to  a  pleasant  sleep.  The  hand  of  "  God's 
gentle  angel,"  that  leads  us  with  a  tender  touch  into 
that  mysterious  realm  which  is  the  common  heritage 
of  us  all,  and  which,  even4  for  the  best  and  strongest 
of  us,  must  in  a  few  brief  years  be  opened  to  our 
knowledge,  has  beckoned  him  away  from  earth,  and 
closing  behind  him  "  the  great  gateway  of  the  past," 
has  shut  out  forever  the  influence  of  sorrow  and  suf 
fering  and  wrong.  Of  his  talents  in  that  walk  of  his 
profession  to  which  he  of  late  years  devoted  himself, 
it  is  hardly  needful  that  I  should  speak.  They  were 
of  that  remarkable  character  that  they  could  not  fail 
to  leave  an  impression  upon  the  minds  of  those  who 
experienced  their  power,  and  have  established  for 
him  a  reputation,  both  lasting  and  extended.  When 
the  history  of  the  California  stage  shall  be  written, 
the  name  of  William  Barry  must  embellish  its  bright 
est  page,  and  in  the  temple  consecrated  to  dramatic 
art  the  laurels  which  adorn  his  brow  must  long  re 
main  fresh  and  green.  Conscientious  and  earnest  in 
the  work  before  him,  he  was  pre-eminently  a  master 
of  his  peculiar  branch ;  and  while  he  always  endeav 
ored  to  bring  to  the  study  of  a  character  all  the 
adornments  it  had  received  from  his  predecessors,  he 
invariably  invested  it  with  a  feeling  and  power  exclu 
sively  and  singularly  his  own  ;  and  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  he  bridged  over  the  gulf  which  separates 
the  present  school  of  acting  from  the  more  thought- 


WILLIAM  BARRY.  1 57 

ful  and  labored  style  of  the  past,  and  that  in  him  we 
have  lost  one  of  the  last  links  in  the  chain  which 
bound  us  to  the  stage  traditions  of  our  fathers.  But 
you  who  knew  him  so  well  and  so  long,  know  also 
his  shining  merits  as  an  artist,  and  my  words  can  add 
but  little  to  the  hold  they  will  have  upon  your  mem 
ory.  If  he  had  a  fault  it  was  one  which  never  pressed 
hard  upon  another,  but  was  an  injury  to  himself 
alone,  and  the  gentleness  of  his  heart,  his  quiet  and 
inoffensive  manner,  childlike  and  innocent  in  its  every 
expression,  while  it  allowed  no  wrong  to  others  to 
come  within  its  influence,  should  teach  us  to  look 
kindly  and  with  sorrow  upon  the  one  weakness  of 
his  life.  The  regret  among  his  comrades,  and  the 
sympathy  of  loving  hearts  outside  of  his  profession, 
evidenced  by  the  gathering  now  present,  are  the 
surest  proofs  of  the  love  he  always  inspired,  and  of 
the  respect  which  all  who  knew  him  are  now  so  de 
sirous  to  display.  And  though  we  take  leave  with 
sadness  of  his  earthly  form,  in  spirit  he  will  be  long 
and  constantly  with  us,  who  believe 

"  That  our  remembrance,  though  unspoken, 
May  reach  him  where  he  lives  "  ; 

and  in  many  an  hour  to  come  will  tender  and  af 
fectionate  tribute  be  paid  to  his  memory,  mingled 
with  a  soft  and  gentle  grief  that  we  can  know  him 
on  earth  no  more. 


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